


Blood Money

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alicorn Heather, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Angst, Assassin Chris Argent, Assassin Peter Hale, Banshee Lydia Martin, Beta Chris Argent, Beta Scott McCall, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Car Sex, Deer Jared, Dragon Allison Argent, Dragon Malia Tate, Dragon Victoria Argent, Dragons, Dryad Marin Morrell, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hyena Vernon Boyd, Incubus Jackson Whittemore, Incubus Jordan Parrish, Knotting, Leprechaun Bobby Finstock, Leprechauns, M/M, Magical Melissa McCall, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mating Bond, Mild Gore, Mild torture, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nesting, Pixies, Selkie Isaac Lahey, Shower Sex, Snake Danielle, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, Warning: Kate Argent, Wendigo, Wolf Peter Hale, death of a minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles watches Scott leave, then turns to gaze blandly at Peter. “One grand.”<br/>The werewolf affects an expression of innocence. “For?”<br/>Stiles points a finger at Peter’s face. “Property damage. Preemptively.”<br/>“Why, Stiles-”<br/>“Dragon,” Stiles interrupts. “You’re going after it. Don’t you remember the basilisks?!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragon Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Petopher!Assassins

“A dragon.” Peter’s voice is flat, disbelieving. “In California.”

Chris nods absently as he finishes off another glass of whiskey, sets it down hard.

One more glass and Peter would switch the bottle out for the watered down stuff. Chris never noticed.

“That’s what the posting says.” He furrows a brow. “Doesn’t say how, but it’s attached to a two million dollar price tag.”

Peter whistles low. “Time for some research.”

-

“Hey gorgeous.” Peter grins as amber eyes behind black-rimmed glasses flick up to him, rolls derisively and then narrow.

“Scott, put up the closed sign.”

Scott heaves a put upon sigh and sets down the six boxes he’d been carrying and stomps to the door.

“Go get yourself a coffee, pup. It’ll be a while.”

Scott glares daggers at Peter and then looks at Stiles, eyebrows raised. Stiles purses his lips, studies Peter a minute and then nods to Scott.

“Give me an hour.”

Stiles watches Scott leave, then turns to gaze blandly at Peter. “One grand.”

The werewolf affects an expression of innocence. “For?”

Stiles points a finger at Peter’s face. “Property damage. Preemptively.”

“Why, Stiles-”

“Dragon,” Stiles interrupts. “You’re going after it. Don’t you remember the basilisks?!” He’s practically yelling, waving his arms and Peter’s waiting for him to send one of the glass containers behind the counter flying.

“I just need some information, sweetheart.” Peter leans across the counter, looks at Stiles with wide, blue eyes, letting a little supernatural gleam bleed through.

“Oh no you don’t.” Stiles rolls up a magazine and actually smacks Peter on the nose with it. “That was a one time thing, NOT to be repeated.”

Peter snarls, wrinkling up his nose at the sting. “Three-time thing actually.” He flicks out his claws and shreds the magazine.

Stiles lets the papers fall tot he floor, crosses his arms. “Two thousand.”

“Stiles,” Peter begins, all trace of flirtation gone.

“I can make it three.”

Peter grits his teeth, but he knows better than to agitate the witch. “Fine.” He grabs a sticky note and writes down a string of numbers. Stiles transfers the funds on his phone, then leads the way to the back room.

Peter follows, waiting for Stiles to seal the spell, and then gives him a long, appraising look. “You sure you don’t want to have another go ‘round?”

Stiles snorts as he starts pulling things off various shelves and setting them on the table in the center of the perfectly round room.

“One: Scott would kill you. Two: Chris would kill me. You weren’t that good in bed.”

Peter arches a brow. “Chris and I aren’t together.”

Stiles turns to look at Peter, well - past Peter, over his left shoulder. “Your aura says differently. You’re bonded to him.”

Peter leans forward, eyes lighting up with interest. “Humans can bond?”

Stiles purses his lips, amber eyes flicking away as he shakes his head. “No.”

“Ah.” Peter quashes the brief flutter he’d felt, and then settles into the available chair. He should have known better. Now Stiles has him off-balance. “Right. Now, the dragon.”

“I’m not going to be able to give you an exact location.”

Peter narrows his eyes, because he just paid two grand for exactly that. Stiles raises a hand to hold off the explosion.

“Dragons can detect scrying and block it. In fact, they can sense and block any magic. Anything at all. They’re also immune to any sort of magical weapon. Its scales are too thick for any bladed weapon to pierce in it’s natural form.”

Peter frowns. “Natural form?”

Stiles’ eyes are already swirling with silvery-purple lights. “Dragons are shapeshifters, Peter. They look just as human as you do.”

-

The motel room is dark, curtains drawn shut, and his eyes flare blue to cut through the gloom to see Chris sitting in the chair, staring at the blank wall.

Peter sighs, he forgot the switch the booze before he left.

_It’s going to be a long night._

-

The next morning Peter is bleary eyed as he trudges down to the coffeeshop across from Stiles’ comic book shop, only to find his way blocked by police cars and fire trucks.

He sniffs out Stiles’ lemongrass scent and follows it to see he and Scott watching their shop burn down.

Scott snarls and leaps at Peter, who smacks him down to the ground.

“I should have charged you more,” Stiles mutters as he clenches his fist.

Peter feels a burning pain in his heart, and then it spreads along his veins and he whimpers as he falls to the ground.

“Not. My. Fault,” he gasps out, watery eyes watching the witch.

“It never is, asshole.” Stiles turns on his heel, his lapdog following him with one last sneer at Peter writhing on the ground.

-

“The fuck happened to you?”

Peter drags himself into their motel room.

“The dragon burned the witch’s shop down. He wasn’t too pleased.”

“Dragon’ll be dead soon enough. And you can buy Stiles a new shop with your cut.” Chris smirks and goes back to sharpening his sword.

Peter snorts as he collapses onto his bed. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He shifts his head to the side, watches Chris a minute. “What’re you doing?”

“This is a very special blade. Blessed by Pope Sylvester the Second, who was a leading scholar of his time, as well as being the first French Pope. Legend says it can kill dragons.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Peter doesn’t have much interest in humans’ weird religions, except in that they were often used as reasoning to kill people like him.

“Shall we test the blade’s edge?”

Peter opens his eyes to see the point of the sword only inches from his neck. He lofts one brow and waits.

Chris purses his lips and pulls the blade back, slides it into the obviously custom made scabbard.

The werewolf takes a deep breath. He’s been waiting for Chris to kill him for twelve years now.

-

“ _Oh no you don’t.” The human shoves Peter back into the wall. “This is my kill.”_

_Peter lets his fangs grow, flashes blue eyes at the hunter. “Not if I get there first.”_

_There’s a zing of electricity and Peter feels the shock of a taser, but he manages to swipe his claws along the human’s leg, bringing him down as well. Peter twitches a few more times, then passes out._

_He wakes up when the man kicks him, and it’s hard to tell how much time had passed, but enough that Peter’s healed from the burns on his chest._

“ _Wolf, get up.”_

_Peter groans and moves, sits up. “What?”_

“ _The mark called the cops right before someone else killed him. We gotta get out of here.”_

“ _Why are you still here?”_

“ _Alley’s locked down, need your help.”_

_Together, they get out of there, and Chris buys him a drink. They swap stories, laugh over their fight, and end up tumbling into bed together._

_Peter wakes up with an acute case of aconite poisoning in an empty motel room._

_That was the moment he fell in love._

-

Scott shows up on their doorstep an hour later, shoving a scrap of paper at Peter like it’s made of acid, and then running away on all fours.

“Do I look that stupid when I do that?”

“Yup,” says Chris, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously.

Peter rumbles a growl low in his throat at the hunter as he punches the address into the search bar. It’s an apartment over a _teppanyaki_ restaurant.

“We got him.”

-

'Him' turns out to be 'her' and she absolutely _gorgeous,_ and apparently dragons have some sort of weird hypnotising powers, because they end up in an extended threesome.

It takes three days for the effect to wear off of Peter, Chris is still deep under, and he manages to stab her in the back while she’s….focused… on the hunter.

As soon as she dies, Chris snaps out of it, and shoves her off of him. He looks at Peter holding the sword.

“Let’s never tell anyone about this.”

“Deal.”

Peter snaps a picture of the body and sends it to the specified number, getting a little chirp on his phone when the money is deposited in the account.

“Time to go, Christopher.”

“Not so fast.” They both turn to see Stiles standing in the doorway. It’s not until those mysterious amber eyes look them both over that the older men remember that they are lacking clothing. Chris tugs a sheet over his crotch. Peter doesn’t bother.

“Hand me your phone.”

Peter arches a brow. “Now just a minute.”

There’s a strangled noise as Scott comes through the door and lifts Chris up by his neck. The hunter has no way to defend himself as McCall pulls him around and sets his claws at the older mans’ throat.

Peter starts to feel that burning rising in his brain as Stiles focuses on him.

“Fuck, fine, fine.” He offers it to the witch, who smirks.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Stiles pushes a few buttons, and then tosses it onto the bed. He nods to Scott, who drops the hunter on his ass, and then heads out the doorway. Stiles waits until Scott is safely behind him before he waves his hand and sets the floor in front of the doorway on fire.

“Son of a bitch,” Chris mutters as he tugs his jeans on, shakes Peter, who’s staring into the flames. “Get dressed, we gotta get out of here.”

-

Once they’re safely back at the motel, Peter checks his bank balance.

“Fucking witches.”

Chris looks up. “What?”

“He wiped us clean. We’re broke. Again.”


	2. Alpha Wolf

“We got an Alpha in upstate New York, or a banshee here in Cali.”

Chris looks glumly at his pile of weaponry. “Don't think we got the resources for a banshee right now.” He flicks his gaze up at Peter. “You lookin' to be an Alpha?”

“It might come in handy,” Peter shrugs.

Chris snorts and goes back to cleaning his sniper rifle. “Also, we're gonna need some magical supplies for a banshee, and you pissed off the only witch willing to deal with you.”

“That was _not_ my fault. There was no way I could have prevented any of that.”

“Witches are touchy, you know that.”

“Well since we're not likely to run into Stiles again, we'll hold off on the banshee until I can find another one.”

Chris nods and pulls a clear plastic bin from under the motel bed, and muses. “I'm going to need to stock up on a couple of these. Feel like making a detour out Colorado way?”

-

Peter loves Colorado, it smells like wilderness in a way that California hasn't for a long time. The snow in the air is a pleasant counterpoint to the smog and oil he's become used to.

Chris gets everything he needs at his favorite Hunter's shop. Peter stays in the car because the whole damned place is lined with mountain ash.

“Hungry, wolf?”

Peter pulls back from the open window, shrugs a bit. “I could eat.”

Chris pulls the SUV into a diner's parking lot, and they both go in the door.

Peter halts as he catches a familiar scent.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and wraps his hand around Chris' arm. The hunter follows his gaze, and then stiffens. “Fuck.”

“I just said that.” Chris glares at Peter, who gives him a faux innocent look.

“Christopher.” Both their heads swivel around.

“Dad. Kate. We were just leaving.” Chris turns on his heels and marches out the door, Peter close behind him. They're in the car already when Gerard taps on Chris' window. The partner assassins exchange glances, and then Chris gives a defeated sigh.

“Yeah.”

“How've you been, son?”

“Since when do you give a damn?”

“I'm trying to be a good father here, Christopher.”

“Should have thought of that before you threw me out of the Family.” Peter watches Chris clench his jaw as he tries to hold himself back.

“If you'd just give up that animal...” Gerard heaves an impatient sigh.

“That _animal_ is sitting right here,” Peter sneers.

“Goodbye, Dad.” Chris throws the car into drive and peals out of the parking lot.

To no one's surprise, Chris pulls into the first open bar he sees, and stalks in. Peter starts to follow him in, but can't get past the threshold.

 _Fucking Hunters._ Peter swears under his breath, sends Chris a text, and takes the SUV to the closest motel.

-

When Chris comes in, hours later, he smells like whiskey and blood and pain, and Peter makes a face as the older man climbs into his bed and wraps himself around the wolf.

Peter sighs, waits until Chris is out cold, and then leans in and kisses the older man's forehead.

“You are such an idiot,” he says softly, then lays back and watches the moon through the window.

-

When Chris comes to a few hours later, he realizes that he's basically laying on his partner, and he tugs himself back, biting back a groan at the pounding pain in his head.

Fortunately, Peter's still asleep, and Chris can forgive himself the indiscretion. He was drunk, it didn't mean anything.

He climbs off, gasping softly as he begins to feel pain in his torso, and when he strips off his shirt, his chest and side are a mess of purple-green bruises. Vague memories of picking a fight comes to him, and Chris sighs.

The one he really wants to beat up is Gerard. But Chris _can't_ , he's got too much obedience still ingrained in him.

He wishes he had been able to get Katie away before their father had twisted her, but now she is just as bad. She's the one who tried to kill Peter's entire pack just because he and Chris are partners.

Chris hears Peter messing with the coffee pot and realizes he's just staring at himself in the mirror. Shaking his head, he ducks into the shower, turned all the way to its hottest setting, and makes a muffled cry as it hits his wounds. But Chris endures.

This is his penance.

-

Peter freezes at the wounded noise of pain coming from his ~~mate~~ partner. He closes flashing eyes and counts backwards from fifty.

Chris doesn't want Peter anywhere near him when he's like this. At least not once he's sobered up.

It's become a pattern with them.

Peter will take it. It's all he has.

-

They're on the road in a couple hours, Peter driving for the first leg as Chris passes out in the back.

Peter flicks on the radio, but softly, humming along to it as his mind wanders along well-worn paths.

-

“ _Leave of your own free will or I will formally recuse you from the Pack.”_

“ _Talia,” Peter begins but she cuts him off._

“ _You're a loose cannon, Peter, and I don't want you around my pups.”_

“ _I accepted your husband taking my rightful place, I didn't argue when you stole Alpha from me, Talia, you can't take my_ Pack _!”_

“ _Leave and I won't have to.”_

_She lets him take exactly one backpack full of things, and has two of his blindly loyal cousins escort Peter to the boundary of their property, her final words ringing in his ears. “You ever come back, I'll kill you.”_

_Peter has only one skill, he knows how to kill._

_It's no surprise that he ends up killing for money, and whatever humanity is left inside the wolf dies a little with each hit._

_By the time he meets Chris Argent, he's ruthless, merciless, and heartless._

-

Alphas take a lot more to kill than betas, and so it takes them a couple hours to prepare. By then, it's just past midnight.

Chris nods once the trap is set, and Peter lifts his head back and roars. It's a beta calling for his Alpha, and though the wolf in question is not Peter's Alpha, they usually feel forced to investigate.

Chris sets Peter up with a false arrow to the stomach and paints black liquid on his face. He slumps against a tree and waits.

It's less than fifteen minutes before the wolf comes into the area, and he's not very bright, just runs right into the clearing and starts trying to help Peter.

Chris fires three times, wolfsbane filled quarrels in a tight cluster in the werewolf's back.

Peter jumps up once the Alpha falls back, growling low as he goes to work, claws tearing through the older wolf's throat until he severs the spinal cord, completely separates head from body.

As Peter's flashing blue eyes bleed into purple and then into red, Chris is busy taking a picture of the severed head with his phone, then sending it to the number from the posting.

He then tucks the cell away, gathers his quarrels in a plastic bag – they can be cleaned and reused, and then drags the body to the nearby river.

Chris watches Peter out of the corner of his eye as he does so. His wolf is just sitting down with his head buried between his knees, getting used to the Alpha power he assumes. Chris checks his phone and finds the bounty money deposited.

The former Alpha's head gets tossed into the river, and Chris goes about cleaning up the scene, spreading a scent blocker, and then wolfsbane mist on top of that.

When it's all done, he crouches in front of Peter.

“You alright?”

Peter's eyes are still flaring red when he looks up, and Chris resists the urge to flinch back when the newly turned Alpha reaches for him. Peter pulls him close, buries his face in the hunter's neck and Chris surmises that he's using scent to ground himself.

“Peter,” he warns after a couple minutes, and the werewolf pulls back and nods, eyes back to their soft blue.

“I'm good now.”

Chris nods and leads the way to their SUV, spreading scent blocker after Peter gets in the car.

They don't go back to the motel, but head out on the road.

It's hours before Chris clears his throat. “We got enough for that banshee now?”

Peter looks away from the window he'd been staring silently at, blinks twice and then nods.

“Yeah, think so. We're still gonna need a witch.”

-

“Not a chance, I heard what happened with Stilinski.”

“That was _not_ our fault, Danny.”

“Neither of you sets foot in my shop, or in my town. I'll mail you what you need, _anonymously_ , and I want the funds untraceable.”

“Done.”

“Oh, and Chris? Check your email.”

He frowns at the phone as Danny hangs up, and Peter glances over from where he's driving.

“What?”

Chris doesn't answer, just hits a couple things on his phone and then swears viciously.

“Christopher.”

Ice blue eyes lift to the wolf's.

“You're on the list now.”


	3. Pixie Power

“Jesus, Peter, what the hell?”

Chris sets the bags of groceries on the counter and looks around the little apartment they've rented. The curtains are hanging in shreds, both kitchen chairs look like cat clawing posts, and the couch is erupting stuffing from rents in its fabric.

“...bored.” A pouty voice comes from the bedroom, and Chris follows it, pauses in the doorway and looks at the whirlwind of clothing and accessories that are strewn around the room. And the lump of blankets in the center of the king sized bed that Peter must be lying under.

“So you destroyed the place we have to live for the next two weeks?”

They have to stay put until the mail-order banshee-killing magic arrives, and since Peter's now on a hitlist, he's been staying indoors to lay low.

“..could have done worse.”

“Peter, we're stuck here, you need to make the best of it.”

It takes Chris two heartbeats to realize that's the worst thing he could say right now. Because two red eyes glow out at him from the pile of blankets and there's a low growl.

“Make the _best_ of it?” Peter rips the blankets aside and jumps at Chris, holds him up against the wall with a hand around his neck, yelling in his face. “ _Make the best of it_? I'm stuck here in a tiny apartment that doesn't smell right. All I can think about is the need to mark my territory, to create a pack, to take a ma-”

Peter drops like a stone, and Chris pulls back the syringe, nods to himself. “Well that's definitely the right dosage.”

He hauls Peter up, back into his nest, pulls one of the blankets over to tuck him in. Chris hesitates, leans in and presses a feather-light kiss to the wolf's temple. “Maybe you can go out for a little bit after dark.”

Chris grabs some sandpaper from the SUV and sands down the kitchen chairs so that he doesn't get splinters, and duct tapes the couch back together. Not much he can do for the curtains.

Then he makes a salad, and by the time Peter comes to, the hunter has steaks sizzling on top of the stove.

He knows when Peter's awake because of the furious roar that rattles the walls of the apartment, and when Peter kicks the locked door down and comes through looking for a fight, Chris has dinner all laid out, and he's sitting in his place, sipping a beer.

“Hungry?” he asks nonchalantly, like he didn't tranq his partner, like he isn't keeping Peter a prisoner.

Peter halts, shakes his head, and then follows his nose to the rare steak, looks at Chris, then back to the steak, then sits down unceremoniously and starts eating.

Chris breathes, and digs into his own dinner.

-

“If you're not back in three hours, I'm going to hunt you down, and get that bounty for myself.”

Peter looks over his shoulder at Chris, snorts and shakes his head, and then vanishes off into the night.

Chris digs out an unopened bottle of whiskey that he hid behind the watered down stuff, that Peter thinks he doesn't know about.

He grabs a glass and a cigar and sits down on the couch, reaches underneath it and pulls out a movie he's hidden from Peter. The wolf would mock him forever.

Chris leans back, sips from his glass and smiles a bit as the movie starts.

“ _Well, then. Now. I'll begin at the beginning. A fine soft day in the spring, it was...”_

-

Peter walks casually through the little town that they've landed in, keeping to shadows and away from people as best he can. His instinct to hide himself is at war with the new need to dominate everyone, make them all submit, and Peter's starting to wonder if becoming an Alpha was a really bad idea.

He manages to make it to the woods without incident, and then he relaxes, lets himself relax. Peter takes a deep breath and shifts, lets the heavier, bulkier, bigger form of the Alpha roll over him.

Peter throws back his head and roars loud, an open challenge to other wolves in the area, and takes off running.

-

Chris check the time on his phone. Twenty minutes until Peter's supposed to be back. He glances at the bottle. Yeah, he's got time to finish it off.

-

Something strange drifts across Peter's consciousness, a scent that he almost feels rather than smells, the hint of a noise he can't quite hear. He adjusts course, tries to follow the scent, the sound, but it's drifting and changes direction, and Peter just ends up confused and lost.

Eventually he gives up, sits down and leans against a tree, focuses on recalling the way back to Chris.

For some reason, it's harder to think as an Alpha, to rely on brain rather than instinct. Or maybe it's something else, because when he tries to get up, he finds that he's paralyzed, and falls onto his face.

Peter pushes up from the ground and looks up to see dozens of multi-colored twinkling lights, and then shies back as a ring of fire erupts around him.

“Fucking pixies,” he slurs through the canine teeth, and roars at them.

The sounds of a thousand tinny giggles rises around him.

And then there's no sound but Peter's screams.

-

An insistent scratching at the door is what wakes Chris out of his stupor, and he checks the time, groaning aloud. He's been out for hours.

The scratching continues, and Chris stumbles to the door, blinking out through the screen, but not seeing anyone. He shakes his head and starts to go back inside but there's an odd whining sounds, and Chris looks over to see a silvery-brown wolf with blue eyes sitting on its haunches.

The wolf tilts his head to the side as Chris opens the door to step outside, rifle in his left hand. As soon as the hunter steps out, the wolf explodes into motion, running at and then pushing past the man, streaking right into the apartment.

Chris swears and turns, follows it in to see nothing but the black tip of its nose peeking out from under the pile of blankets in the best that Peter-

“Peter?!”

The wolf whimpers and slides a little more of its head out so that Chris can see mournful blue eyes.

“Aw, hell, Peter. What happened to you?”

Peter pulls his head back in under the covers. Chris steps forward, but Peter makes a warning growl and the hunter stops.

“It's alright, Peter, you're safe now.” He tries again but the wolf will not let Chris near him.

With a sigh, Chris gives up and goes back into the other room, pulls out his laptop and starts doing some research.

-

“Witches, fairies, pixies, or something similar that I don't know about.” Chris is talking to himself out loud in the living room, because he's used to discussing these things with Peter.

“Which means money, bribes, or kill it with fire.”

Chris catches movement out of the corner of his eye, which halts when he stops talking, so he continues.

“Witches can usually be bought or made a deal with, but the registry doesn't have any witches in this particular area, so I'm going o have to rule that one out.

Peter is creeping along the floor now, and Chris would laugh at the ridiculous image of a giant wolf inches along a well-lit open floor, if he wasn't just so damned relieved that the wolf had come out of the bedroom.

“Fairies can be bribed with food or shiny trinkets, however they're very rare, extremely difficult to find when they don't want to be found.”

Peter wiggles himself under the bridge of Chris' legs, where his feet are propped up on top of the coffee table.

“So we'll leave that for now, and also, lets assume that it's not something we've never heard of before. Not that it couldn't happen, but that it'll be a pain in the ass, so I don't want to think about it.”

Chris doesn't look up from his book as Peter lifts his head, rests it on the cushion next to the hunter.

“That leaves us with pixies, which means tracking down the hive they're living in, and burning it with magical fire.”

Chris moves his hand slowly, absently as he he talks, settles it lightly on the top of Peter's head, fingers lightly smoothing the fur.

“Fortunately, I do have that rocket shooter fire thing that Stiles made for us when we fought the basilisk, so I'm hoping that will do the trick.”

Peter's eyes close and his whole body shivers as Chris scratches just to the side of the perked up ear, and the hunter represses a smile.

“Then all we have to do is track them down. And I'm going to guess that you made a beeline straight for the woods last night, so I think we can start there.”

Chris glances at the time as he continues to pet Peter.

“In the morning, er, later morning anyway.”

He finally looks down at the wolf, who looks calmer and maybe even happy? as Chris adds his other hand stroking along Peter's back.

“What do you say we get some shut-eye, Peter?”

The wolf opens his eyes, looks up at Chris, and then makes a chuffing sound.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

-

Chris wakes up cold a few hours later, turns over to find Peter has re-dragged all the blankets into a pile that he's back underneath. Chris reaches for one, tugs it from the pile and over himself.

There's a low growl, but Chris is tired and hungover.

“Now you listen, you little bastard. I'm cold and I'm keeping my blanket.”

-

Chris wakes up sweating to death around eleven am, goes to blindly push the blanket off, and touches fur instead of fabric.

He opens his eyes to find the wolf laying across him, the entire pile of blankets over them both.

“I can't wait until you're back to you.”

He gets up and runs through a quick shower, finds Peter blocking the bathroom doorway, laying across the entrance. Chris shoves the wolf with his foot but he doesn't budge. He ends up having to step over Peter, who then gets up and follows him, settles right down next to Chris' chair when he sits down for breakfast.

Chris feeds him ham and eggs. It's Peter's favorite, he hopes it's something actual wolves can eat. The Peter-wolf seems to appreciate it.

-

It takes most of the day wandering through the forest before Chris finds Peter's trail, follows it in twisting spirals and jagged tangents.

“They really fucked you up, didn't they Peter?”

Chris looks over at the wolf, who has his paws high up on a tree, and he's growling at a squirrel, who starts chittering right back.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Chris sighs and continues following the trail until he finds a burned out circle of grass.

“This must be the place.” He digs the flamethrower from his back, starts with the closest tree and looks for the hive. It's on the fifth tree, and Chris lights it up, grinning as he does so. He's not a fan of pixies.

When the fire fizzles out, Chris snaps a pic, just in case there's something on the list about these creatures.

He turns to see a passed out Peter behind him, thankfully back in human shape, unfortunately completely nude. Chris shrugs out of his jacket, tosses it over Peter's ass, and sighs. No way he gets through town carrying a naked guy over his shoulder.

-

It's almost a half hour when Peter wakes with a strangled shout, then stares at himself before looking up at Chris.

“What?”

“Pixies,” Chris grumbles. “I crisped 'em.”

Peter nods, smirks at the jacket as he sits up. “Protecting my modesty, Christopher? How chivalrous of you.”

Chris rolls his eyes as he catches the flung jacket and tugs it back on. “Last thing I want to do is stare at your ass.”

He turns away, but not before Peter hears the blip in the hunter's heartbeat. Bright blue eyes narrow as the hunter starts walking away. “See you back home.”

-

Peter runs home, supernaturally fast, skirting the outside of town. He's in the shower by the time Chris' ambling pace brings him to their place, and the hunter sees the package leaning up against the side of the building.

Peter wanders out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and Chris' gaze skitters over the muscular frame before waving the box.

“Time to go kill us a banshee.”


	4. Banshee Binding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate Argent Is Her Own Warning
> 
> (More Spoilery warning in the end notes)

“That's the banshee? She cant even be eighteen.”

They're perched on a rooftop doing some reconnaissance, stalking their prey.

Banshees are damned hard to kill – well _re_ -kill, since they're already dead – and they need to be very, very careful. The stuff Danny has sent them is only enough for one shot at this, and with what he charged them for it, they can't afford a screw up.

Chris nods, pulling away from his binoculars. “Lydia Martin, from a long line of Wailing Women. Normally they die of natural causes, and then resurrect as banshees.”

“Let me guess, she turned early because _reasons_ and that makes her more powerful, blah blah blah.” Peter grumbles under his breath and Chris darts a glance at his partner.

The werewolf has been off-balance since the pixie incident, but he won't talk about it, and Chris isn't exactly sure how to handle the situation. So he does what Chris Argent does best, he ignores it and drinks a lot.

“Yeah, I guess the younger they turn, the more dangerous they are, which is why there's usually a clan of women protecting them, and two, why she's worth so much.”

“So why's she alone?”

“No idea.” Chris shrugs and turns back to watches her nibble at her ice cream and then swore softly.

Peter looks at the hunter warily. “What.”

Chris hands over the binoculars.” Look who just sat down with her.”

“That's Stiles' puppy. Scott something.”

“McCall,” Chris supplies, “beta wolf, born. Father's Rafael McCall, Alpha of a pack in DC.”

Peter slowly turns to look at Chris with an eyebrow arched. Chris shrugs. “Gerard made me learn all the Alphas in America.”

“One of these days I'm going to kill that man.” Peter hears what Chris doesn't say about the elder Argent's teaching methods, smells the hurt and pain that roll over Chris when he thinks about it.

“No, you won't.”

Peter jumps up at the female voice, claws and teeth descending, but Kate's already pulling the trigger, and the Alpha feels the burn of wolfsbane bullets.

Chris is slower to scramble to his feet, to get between his sister and his partner. “Katie, come on, don't do this, there's no reason.”

“There's five million reasons, big brother.” Then she pulls a taser from her pocket and shoots Chris in the chest with it, and he sees stars, writhing on the ground as his sister drags his partner away.

When Chris finally recovers, he pushes himself to a sitting position, only to look up and see McCall and the banshee looking at him. “God _fucking_ dammit.”

-

When Peter wakes up, the first thing he realizes is that he's completely naked and chained to something. When Peter opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Kate Argent.

“Why, Kate,” he drawls casually, idly testing the bonds. “If you wanted to get into my pants, you could have just asked.”

There's a wet snort of amusement to his side, and Peter glances over but he can't see anything, nostrils flaring to catch the scent of blood and magic...and Stiles.

“I don't normally do threesomes-” Peter starts to say, and then Stiles snorts again. “Hey _that was one time_.”

Stiles coughs, rattling and raspy, and when his voice comes out, it's rough and there's a hint of a gurgle that Peter instantly worries about. “Three-time thing actually.”

Peter's lips twist into a smirk, but he doesn't get as far as a chuckle, because Kate jams some sort of giant electric prod into his side. He clenches his teeth so tightly that his jaw aches, but he's not going to give her the satisfaction of making him scream.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she grins down at him. “Way more fun that the stupid witch. As soon as I cut his tattoos off, he got boring real fast.”

Peter can't help the wave of nausea that rises. At least a third of Stiles' body is – was – covered in magical tattoos, and two of them, that he knows of, are absolutely vital to the human's health. Now he knows why Stiles sounds so bad.

He tries to plan, to figure out how to get out of here, weighs the pros and cons of rescuing Stiles, but then there's a knife slicing down his side, clacking off his ribs, and something cold and hard is shoved inside. Peter can feel his flesh slowly knitting around it as he hears Kate move over to Stiles.

And then the thing starts electrocuting him _from the inside_ , and he can barely hear the grunting noises in the background over the haze of pain.

-

“Take it or leave it.” The banshee looms over him, for all that she barely tops five feet, Lydia Martin has an undeniable presence. Her bright red lips purse as she narrows her eyes and waits for his answer.

“Deal,” Chris sighs after a minute. Peter would not be happy with him, but Chris thinks it's worth giving up one bounty to get his partner back, even a multi-million dollar one. It's just good business, of course, no personal feelings involved. Chris doesn't do feelings.

“Good. Scott, you're sure you can find him?”

The beta nods. “We're bonded.”

Chris arches a brow after rising and brushing himself off. “Only wolves can bond.”

Scott grins, and suddenly Chris can see what the witch sees in him. Just that sunny smile makes everything seem brighter. “Magic,” he says with this weird wavy, jazz hands looking gesture.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Thank goodness I only have girls, I could not _stand_ to have a boy.”

Chris looks at her with confusion. “You have children?”

Lydia shakes her head at him in exasperation. “You really need to do better research. My wife and I have two girls.”

The hunter mentally reviews the literature. “No. You can't. It's not possible.”

Lydia mutters something under her breath and walks away.

Scott whispers to Chris. “ _Magic_.”

Chris walks away before the beta wolf can wave his hands again.  His analytical mind starts putting the pieces together.

Kate must know that the Martin banshee would need magic for her children, probably kidnapped the witch in order to get to Lydia. She's after the bounty on both the banshee and Peter.

Chris sets his jaw. He's not gonna let that happen.

-

Kate finally leaves, and Peter can hear the quiet hitch of Stiles' bitten back whimpers as the wolf takes stock. He's had a fair amount of experience getting out of different kinds of bindings. Chris and his training.

Peter manages to pry loose a spring from the bed frame he's secured to, using the limited range he's got, and then straightens it, carefully manipulating it until the cuff springs open. With a grumble, Peter eyes the slices on his wrists. Kate had sharpened the inside to keep him bleeding.

Peter uncuffs his other hand in short order, and then gingerly unwinds the chains, doing his best to make as little noise as possible. Once he's free of the frame, Peter drags himself over to where Kate has left the still-bloody knife, and jabs it into his side, holding back the noises of pain. He slides his hands in awkwardly, but he can't reach the electrical device.

Peter snarls softly. Until he gets that out, he won't heal.

He picks his way over to Stiles, and the witch is in just as bad a shape as Peter had imagined. He removes all the human's bindings and tries to shake him awake.

“Stiles,” he hisses, but the witch seems to be out cold, or in some kind of trance.

Just then Peter hears a noise just outside the door, and his hands tightens around the knife as he crouches behind Stiles' bed.

Kate comes flying through the door, closely followed by the McCall pup, fully enraged, until he sees Stiles. He stops in shock, features falling back to human as he turns on his heel and runs out of the room. Peter can hear him being sick outside.

Chris follows through the door next, and Peter slumps in relief, before pushing himself to his feet.

“Christopher...” He rasps, and the hunter turns and rushes to him, halting only at seeing the knife.

“Need to cut out, she put electric, inside me.” Peter's starting to feel a fair amount woozy as Chris's lips thin and he nods.

Peter feels the knife taken from his hand, arches as Chris slides it slowly in, and looks up through his lashes hazily at the human, as he pushes his hand inside Peter and twists it, searching.

Chris looks down at him, looks into Peter's eyes the entire time. Peter tries to think of something to say, but his brain doesn't seem to be working, and then Chris grunts and pulls the thing free, whipping it across the room.

Peter slumps a bit, and Chris catches him, helps him to a box to sit on, keeping a wary eye on where Scott is now looming over his sister. “I'm gonna get Stiles out of here,” Chris says softly, “and then I'll be back for you, Hale.”

Peter swings his gaze up and nods once, face giving no hint of the feelings that simple statement has stirred up inside him.

Chris grunts as he lifts Stiles, and Scott watches, forlorn, as the hunter takes the witch out of the torture chamber. Peter stretches as his wounds heal, and rises to walk over to Scott, resting a hand on the shoulder of the agitated beta.

“Go to your mate, pup.” Red eyes glow down at the prone blonde. “I'll take care of Ms. Argent.”

Scott hesitates, and then nods, and scurries out the door. Peter reaches out, grabs a handful of Kate's hair and pulls her to her feet by it.

Chris comes in just as Peter's claws rip through Kate's throat. He throws her to the ground and stalks past his partner, who rushes to his sister's side.

“Oh, Katie, how did it come to this?”

-

They leave Stiles and Scott with Lydia, and her partner, Erica – Scott's alpha.

Chris rescinds his interest in the banshee bounty, adds a note to it for everyone to see, that Lydia is mate to a good Alpha, and the mother of two little girls. It won't stop everyone from coming after her, but it will stop some. It's all he can do to help them.

Peter is oddly silent on their way back to the hotel room, a different one then they'd been staying at, somewhere his father wouldn't think to look. Chris wants to ask the wolf if he's alright, what he's thinking so hard about, but...this is not a thing they do.

So when they get to their suite, Peter goes straight for the shower like always, and Chris goes straight for the bottle like always.

The first drink is for the little sister he remembers, curly blonde pigtails waving in the wind as she chases him with her foam sword.

The second for the woman Kate could have been, the mechanical engineer that she never got to be.

The third is for Stiles, who is still hovering at death's door.

Then one for Peter, who's had to deal with enough shit in his life, and he keeps getting hurt because of Chris.

The hunter stops counting after that, just finishes the bottle. He's blindly staring at the label when Peter comes out of the shower.

Chris doesn't even look up as Peter walks past him, goes into the bedroom and curls himself under the blankets.

Chris carefully settles the bottle on the coffee table, tugs off his shirt and jeans, and leaves them there on the floor.

The hunter climbs into the bed, lays on his back and stares at the ceiling until he passes out.

-

Peter waits, huddled on his side of the bed, until he's sure Chris is fast asleep, then he turns carefully and stealthily.

The werewolf rests his cheek on Chris' chest so that he can feel the hunter's heartbeat, wraps an arm around the older man's waist and clings to him like he's a life preserver.

-

Peter is gone by the time Chris blearily rouses himself from rest, but he comes through the door with breakfast as Chris sets up the coffeepot.

The hunter flips through the posted bounties.

“Two witches, a selkie, and an omega pack.”

Peter chews thoughtfully. “Where's the selkie at?”

“Seattle.”

The wolf nods after a minute. “I could use a change of scenery.”

Chris selects that one. “Seattle it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate tortures Stiles and Peter. She tells Peter that she's cut off all Stiles' tattoos, and there's a hint that she's doing worse things to him offscreen. She cuts Peter with a knife and inserts an electrical device inside him.


	5. Glamour and Venom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death

Chris hangs up the phone, stares at it a minute before running a hand through his hair and lifting his eyes up to Peter. He watches the wolf stand with his bare feet buried in the sand, stare off across the ocean as the waves lap at his feet. Chris wonders how far Peter can see. And if the wolf has ever been to the ocean before.

Peter turns, as if he feels Chris' gaze, and starts walking back towards the hunter.

“How's Stiles?”

“Better than expected,” Chris nods, “They found a freezer... Kate...” Chris sets his jaw. “Kate preserved the tattoos.”

“Little bit of magic and he'll be good as new.” Peter murmurs softly into the air as he settles down next to Chris.

“Physically. Danny says he's having nightmares about the other things Kate did to him.” Chris' voice is bleak. “The entire Argent family has been blacklisted by the Witch Council.”

“Well, that's going to put a damper on getting magical supplies.”

“Stiles blames you for his capture, Peter.”

“I don't see how that possibly could have been my fault.”

“He was there seeking assistance from Erica to resupply everything that was lost when the dragon burned down his shop.”

Peter is silent a moment. “How did Kate manage to catch him? Stiles is one of the most powerful witches on earth.”

Chris shakes his head. “I wish I knew.”

-

“Lore says selkies originated in Scotland. They lured sailors and unhappy people to the sea.”

Chris grunts as he sharpens his skinning knife. “You kill it by skinning it alive, then burning the skin.”

Peter wrinkles up his nose in distaste. “I wonder what he did.”

Chris blinks, tilts his head and looks up at Peter. “Who the fuck cares? Someone's paying us to kill him. We need the money.”

Peter shrugs. “Did you ever wonder who puts those bounties up?”

“Nope,” Chris sets his knife down, reaches for the file, then whistles low. “Is that him?”

“Meet Isaac Lahey.”

“Holy shit is he pretty.”

“They're all supposed to have that unearthly beauty. You can see why people would run away with them.”

Chris eyes Peter. “You're not fucking our target...again.”

-

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Big blue eyes look up at him, the smile shy and Peter nearly groans aloud as he can feel his jeans getting too tight.

“Would you quit that?” A dark hand smacks the blonde upside the back of the head, and Peter does gasp ever so softly as the spell suddenly loosens, and he doesn't feel like he's about to come in his pants.

Isaac Lahey turns a pout up to the man, who slides an arm around the blonde's shoulders, then looks at Peter. “This one's taken man.”

The werewolf, a bit shaken, nods and leaves without saying a word. He ducks around a corner and presses his back to the wall, takes a deep breath. Now Peter knows why someone wants the selkie dead.

-

“Not sure who the other guys was, but he seemed to be immune.”

Chris hides a smirk at Peter's confession about Lahey's mystical attraction power, instead humming noncommittally as he adds a note to their file.

“So he may or may not know be supernatural, but most likely is.” Chris muses. “There's no information on who pr what could be immune to a selkie, so we will just have to make sure that this other guy is somewhere else.”

“Which means another week while we do surveillance,” Peter mutters and flops back on the bed.

“Get some rest, tomorrow we'll do some touristy things until that background search comes in.”

Peter curls up on the bed, and Chris shuts off all the lights but one, then settles under it to read a couple books on selkies that he'd picked up from the library while Peter had been at the bar. He glances at the time and waits.

Forty-five minutes later, as if on cue, Peter starts making noise, these tiny little distressed whines, sounding like a little pup whimpering. Chris closes the book, shuts the light off, and crawls into the bed, wraps his arms around Peter and hushes the younger man, whispers that he's safe until those awful sounds stop, and then he falls off to sleep.

-

Peter wakes in the morning like he always does, Chris clinging to him like he's a security blanket. The werewolf slides free, then stops dead as he sees the unopened bottle of whiskey next to Chris' pile of research. He turns to look at the older man, face slack in sleep, and he wants to shake him awake, ask Chris what it means that _for the first time ever_ , he hasn't had to drink himself stupid before he can stand to hold Peter.

But he doesn't. Peter's not sure he can handle anything that Chris might answer to that. So he simply returns the bottle to Chris' stash, and goes to get breakfast.

-

“Guy's name is Vernon Boyd IV, and he and Lahey have been together for a long time.”

“You got an address?”

Chris snorts. “You coming with or you want to split shifts?”

Peter hesitates. “Think we'd better double up, not sure how far that spell can affect me. Or if it'll affect you.”

“Works for me.”

They stop for doughnuts on the way, Peter has a craving. Only he doesn't do what normal people do and just make a suggestion. Peter manipulates. Fortunately, Chris has known the werewolf long enough to be able to see past it. He still indulges the younger man and lets him think he's getting what he wants. It works for them.

-

“These two are really boring.” Two days later and they've learned that Boyd works afternoons teaching evening classes at the community college, and Lahey is a kindergarten teacher of all things.

“Gonna be hard to get them to deviate from their schedule.”

Peter muses. “I think I have an idea.”

-

“That was far too easy.” Peter eyes the dark-skinned man passed out on the parking lot cement.

“Just put him in the cage.”

They drive to the marina and Peter hides the cage in the tiny boathouse, then takes Boyd's phone and walks out to the boat, hesitating a second to glance at Chris, who's hauling wood down to the nearby beach to start the fire.

Peter starts the boat, drops the net made of some sort of seaweed, that they've been assured selkies react to like like werewolves and aconite, and then parks the boat just beyond it.

When he see the fire roar to life, Peter dials.

“Boyd?” comes the worried voice through the phone.

“Not exactly,” Peter smirks.

“Is he alive?”

“For now. If you come alone, he'll stay that way.”

Peter texts Lahey the address.

“You have fifteen minutes.”

-

Their plan works, Lahey doesn't even notice Chris, just jumps into the water and changes into his seal form, comes swimming at Peter in the boat. The net works as planned, the seal shies away, and then when Peter informs him that Boyd has been on shore all along, Lahey makes this mournful, haunting noise that Peter doesn't think he will ever forget.

As he gets back to shore, Chris is there with the silver plated harpoon. It keeps the selkie from changing back to human. And gives the hunter a handhold as he starts skinning. Its a good thing for them that this area is deserted this time of year, because Lahey makes a lot of noise, whether in pain, or calling out for the unconscious Boyd, Peter doesn't know.

Climbing off the boat, Peter's nostrils flare as he catches the scent of blood, it rouses something primal within him, and he finds himself half-aroused watching Chris.

The human throws the sealskin into the fire just as as growling snarl sounds from the direction of Boyd's boathouse, and Peter swears aloud as he sees the creature start loping towards Chris, whose back is to it as he watches the skin burn.

Peter's eyes glow red and he lets out his Alpha roar which has the benefit of getting the attention of both of them.

The thing comes into the light, and Peter has just enough time to recognize it as a hyena before he shifts, and then he's shocked as he goes right past beta into full wolf form. Peter's mind freezes, terrified he's going to get stuck there, but then Boyd goes after Chris, and he doesn't hesitate, just throws himself at the other were.

It's a brutal fight, and Peter's surprised to find himself more than evenly matched. Boyd gets a nasty bit in on Peter's midsection, but as he locks his jaws, they're still long enough for Chris to get a shot in. He's right on target, and Boyd disengages, and falls to the ground convulsing.

The hyena melts into human form, and Chris drags him over to Lahey's corpse, puts a few more bullets in him, and then comes to Peter's side.

Peter falls back into human as well, and the glaring extent of his injury is becoming clear. All the scratches from Boyd's claws are healing, the tooth marks are not.

“So, a hyena, huh?” Peter's voice is weak. “I've never even heard of those.”

Chris gently presses at the inflamed skin near the bite, and Peter arches and cries out in pain as a murky green liquid leaks from the teeth marks.

He looks from the writhing werewolf to the bodies, and grits his teeth. Chris pulls out some lighter fluid from his bag and douses both dead weres with it, takes quick pictures of them, and then tosses them both into the fire. It's not the best clean up he's ever done, but it'll do.

Chris has bigger things to worry about.

-

By the time Peter's laid in the hotel room bed, he's delirious, and calling for people Chris doesn't know. Desperately, Chris spends all night calling every witch and magical practitioner he can think of.

No one will take his calls.

By the morning, Peter is pale and sickly, no longer even close to consciousness, and Chris sets his jaw and makes a phone call that he never thought he'd had to.

“Peter?”

“Chris.”

There's silence on the other end.

“Peter's dying, Talia. I need Alan.”

-

“Going up against a hyena seems a less than wise move.”

Alan Deaton is as sanctimonious as ever. Chris grits his teeth and doesn't take the bait.

“Can you help him?”

“Hyena toxin is nasty stuff, quite rare too. You didn't happen to keep one of the teeth?”

Chris fixes the Emissary with a flat stare. “No.”

Deaton sighs heavily. “Well, I will do what I can. I can't promise that it will work.”

Chris nods, eyes never leaving Peter. “You're his only hope.”

 


	6. Death and Dragons

After two days, it's becoming clear that Deaton can't help Peter any more than Chris can. He's becoming weaker and weaker, and the angry red lines from the bite have radiated in all directions. The wound is still leaking, and Chris changes the dressing as often as the druid now. He only leaves Peter's side when he has to, sleeping in a cot next to the hospital bed Deaton has procured from somewhere, and placed in the back room of the animal clinic.

Talia won't have him in her house. She says something about upsetting the pack and contagion. Chris doesn't listen, he doesn't have time for her crap. He mumbles some thanks about letting them hoard so much of Alan's time, and ignores her from there on out.

Chris doesn't notice when she leaves, he's too busy willing Peter to get better. Peter's always gotten better, he's an Alpha werewolf for chrissake. _He's not supposed to get sick, not supposed to die. Not like this anyway._ Chris expected to be the first to go, Peter's supposed to outlive him.

Chris is just going round and round with these thoughts, and he _really_ wants a drink. But he's afraid if he leaves Peter, the wolf will die before he gets back.

Deaton comes in, checks Peter's vitals, but Chris already knows.

“I'm sorry, Chris, I've done everything I can. I've never seen anything like this before.”

Chris doesn't look up from Peter, doesn't want to hear it.

“Chris, you need to prepare yourself, make arrangements.”

“He's not going to die,” Chris growls out, “There has to be another way.”

Deaton pauses, considers. “There might be something.”

Chris finally tears his eyes from Peter's face to look up at the Emissary.

“There's an old legend that says a dragon's scale is a cure all. One pinch of scale ground up into powder can cure anything.” Alan tilts his head, looking intently at Chris. “The question is, do you know any dragons?”

-

Chris starts at the apartment where he and Peter had killed the dragon. Naturally it's been cleaned up and there's not one shred of evidence to point him toward more of her kind. Her name was Victoria, or at least that's what she called herself when she rented the place. There's no paper trail, no anything.

Chris goes through every contact he has trying to find information on the woman but no one knows anything. He even tries to find the person who posted the initial hit, but all traces of that one have been wiped.

Chris is just about to give up and go home to watch Peter die, when he gets a text from a blocked number. It's a set of coordinates about an hour out. He's just sitting on his thumbs here, so Chris gets in the SUV and starts driving.

There's nothing here but desert, and Chris wonders if this is where he dies.

He hears the sound of a helicopter and looks up, shielding his eyes as he watches the craft land. Someone gets out on the opposite side, steps back a few paces and the chopper takes off again. When the dust clears, Chris sees the woman, and shock runs along his spine.

“You're dead,” he blurts out, shaking his head. “I saw you die.”

“You thought you did,” she smirks, stalking towards him in a way that screams predator to his hindbrain. “You were wrong.” The slinky red dress she's wearing should look out of place but somehow it doesn't.

“I'm Victoria,” she says as she reaches out her hand. “We weren't properly introduced before.”

“How are you not dead,” he says stupidly as his hand clasps around hers.

“Illusion,” she says with a smirk that makes Chris very nervous. “No one can see through a dragon's illusions, not even the most powerful witch on earth. Which Stiles is not, by the way.”

“Illusion,” he repeats and she nods, flickers her fingers, and suddenly, she's dressed in a loose pair of sweats, her hair messy and windswept, and she's visibly pregnant.

Chris swallows hard, looks intently at her as the slim body in the glittery dress reappears. “Which one's real?”

Victoria chuckles softly. “That's not your problem right now, Christopher.” She lifts a vial with three glittering red scales in it. “Your problem is Peter Hale.”

Chris' eyes fixate on the vial. “You'll help him?”

The dragon shakes her head and laughs. “Everything has its price, Christopher. What are you willing to pay for your pet wolf's life?”

“He's not my wolf,” Chris mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I'm pretty much broke at the moment.”

“Money is of no use to me,” Victoria says. “I have need of your other...services.”

Chris flashes back to that three day sex binge, and she smirks. “Not those services.”

She hands him a stack of six papers all stapled together. Chris reads it through, arches a brow up at her in surprise.

It's a contract. For him, Peter...and Stiles.

-

Chris signed it, of course he did, pledging himself to bring the other two men on board to work for the dragon. He's aware of the ways this could go so very badly. Chris just doesn't care.

Scott meets him halfway after a hurried phone call. “He'll do it,” the beta promises with a stubborn set to his jaw that Chris hasn't seen before. “If this does what she says it will, I'll make sure of it.”

“I'll let you know when I hear from her,” Chris says, after handing over one of the scales. “Crush it into powder, you'll only need a pinch. Save the rest, I think Stiles will want it.”

Scott nods and there's sympathy in the soft brown eyes as he looks at Chris. “Peter's an asshole, but I hope it works.”

Chris nods his thanks and heads home to Peter.

-

He's too late.

Deaton has already declared Peter dead and put the Alpha in the freezer while he tries to convince Talia to let him be buried in the Hale cemetery.

“Why does she hate him so much?” Chris mumbles as he hauls Peter free, flops the body on the exam table and starts crushing on e of the scales.

“Like most things having to do with the Hales, it's complicated.”

“Simple it up for me,” Chris growls as he pushes the powder into Peter's mouth with his fingers.

“Peter was supposed to be Alpha,” Deaton sighs as he watches Chris' fruitless endeavor but makes no movement to stop him. If this is what it takes to help the hunter come to terms with his loss then so be it. “Talia had her husband...distract...Peter while she went about the legal framework to have him adopted by her father. As then the oldest male, Andrew was the one who inherited Alpha from Aaron when he died. Peter...” Deaton hesitates, obviously considering his words. “Peter did not take it well.”

They both watch the corpse for a while in silence.

“I'm not sure what Aaron was thinking when he signed the paperwork, formally made Andrew his heir, but I suspect he felt that someone who couldn't, or wouldn't, continue the bloodline had no place as Alpha. He could be...difficult, when it came to doing things in the old way.”

Chris furrows a brow. “But Peter likes women, he could have sired pups.”

“His father caught him with someone and labeled him from then on, regardless of Peter's explanations.”

Something about the way Alan says that makes Chris turn and look at the druid, who is looking at the wolf almost...tenderly.

“It was you,” Chris realizes, and he can't help a chuckle and a shake of his head. “Is there anyone that Peter hasn't slept with?”

Deaton shrugs and glances at Chris. “I'm going home for the night. Call me if you need me.”

Chris nods, and resumes his vigil.

-

Chris wakes to a hand clumsily stroking through his hair, and he leans into it a moment before sitting up ramrod straight.

A pair of blue eyes stare at him, and Chris almost sobs in relief. Instead, he clears his throat and fixes an unimpressed look down at Peter. “Took you long enough.”

Peter starts to say something but his voice rasps and then he coughs. Chris grabs a bottle of water and holds it to the werewolf's lips, supports him in a sitting position.

“Back from the dead five seconds and you already gotta be talking shit.”

Peter lifts his face up to look at Chris, and his eyes are sparkling and he's fucking _alive_ , and Chris feels such a rush of affection that he's leaning in and pressing his lips against Peter's before he can stop himself.

Peter stiffens in surprise, and Chris is pulling back, “Fuck, sorry,” disentangling from Peter, and then the older man goes into the other room as Peter falls backward onto the cold metal table.

Chris comes back into the room with his hunter face on. “Deaton's on his way. You rest. I gotta go take care of a couple things.”

“Chris...” Peter tries but the human shakes his head.

“No, Peter, not now.” And he leaves the building.

-

“He did what?”

“I looked it over, Peter. It's magically binding, not surprising coming from a dragon.” Deaton nods as he steps back, making notes on Peter's chart. “They invented the profession of law.”

“How long is it for?”

Deaton glances at the floor then back up. “Indefinitely.”

-

“You sold the rest of our lives to a dragon.” Peter's not sure if he's shaking from fury or weakness.

“At least you have the rest of your life.” Chris' jaw is set stubbornly as he pulls the blanket up higher around Peter.

“It's not worth that, Christopher.”

Chris' lips thin. “It is to me.”

This seems like a good time to reopen the discussion from earlier. “Chris-”

“Nope,” the hunter hops up. “We're not doing that, we're not talking about it, it didn't happen, I'm going for a drink now that I know you're okay.” And with that, Chris is gone, rushing out the motel room door, leaving Peter alone.

He lays there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, and then he reaches for his phone and makes a call.

-

Chris doesn't come home for over thirty-six hours. When he does, he can barely stumble over the threshold, and its a good thing that Peter is now fully recovered, because he has to heft Chris off the floor and put the human to bed.

Peter brushes his hand through the unkempt hair, runs a thumb along the stubbled jawline.

“Oh, Christopher,” he breathes and then leans in to press his lips against the hunter's forehead. “It wasn't worth it. I'm not worth it.”

Chris' eyes don't open but he mumbles Peter's name, and the wolf smiles sadly. “I'm here, Christopher. I'm here.”

“Don't leave me again. You're all I got.”

It's muffled but clear enough for Peter to understand, and he nods even though Chris can't see him, and he's about to make that promise when Chris says something else that makes the wolf freeze and stare wide-eyed down at the hunter.

“I love you more than anything.”

 


	7. Demons and Twins

When Chris wakes up, Peter is gone.

He stumbles through the room, warring with his head and stomach, searching for some indicator where the werewolf has disappeared to. What little he has is still here, and Chris tries to tell himself that means that Peter is coming back.

He downs some aspirin and lays back down on the bed, watches the ceiling until his stomach gets with the program and reminds him that he has to eat. The hunter goes to the local diner and orders carryout. It's not until he's taking the food containers out of the bag that Chris realizes that he's ordered for Peter.

He leaves them where they are, untouched, and flicks on the television. After a few hours he drinks himself to sleep.

Peter doesn't come home.

-

Peter is chasing the dragon.

He's tracked her from that rendezvous in the desert to Vegas of all places, and he's stalking through the streets trying to catch her scent and failing.

Instead,Victoria finds him.

“Well, well, if it isn't one of my favorite new pets.”

“Let Christopher go,” he growls, leaning in, nostrils flaring, and then his whole demeanor changes, brow furrowing. His head tilts to the side and a look of intense concentration comes over his face.

“Your scent... two heartbeats – no _three_...” Peter rears back, eyes wide open. “Pregnant.”

Victoria rolls her eyes and drops the illusion. “You puppies and your extra senses.”

“But how...?”

The dragon smirks and arches a brow. “I think you know how, you were there.” Victoria waves the illusion back in place. “Now, back to business. What do you want?”

Peter shakes his head, pushes the new revelations aside. “I want you to release Chris from the contract. I'll still do whatever you want, and frankly I don't care what happens to Stiles, but I want Chris to be free.”

Victoria's eyes narrow as she studies the wolf. “No.”

She turns, looking back over her shoulder. “I need him. I need all of you.”

And then she's gone.

Peter puts his fist through the nearest wall.

-

“You asshole, you son of a bitch, you had no right, do you know how much shit I've gone through for you and that failure of a wolf? And now you've magically bound me to her _INDEFINITELY_?”

Chris holds the phone away from his ear. Stiles' ranting is not helping his headache.

Eventually the witch runs out of steam and just huffs into the mouthpiece a moment, and then Stiles clears his throat. “He wasn't worth it. He's a good fuck, Argent, but not worth throwing your life away, bonded to you or not.”

Chris blinks. “Bonded?”

There's silence at the other end and Chris can hear Scott's voice is raised, but not what the beta is yelling.

“I have to go tell Erica. You owe me.”

Chris stares at his phone a long minute, then at the food containers still on the table. He eats Peter's dinner for breakfast and tries to figure out what he's going to do next.

-

Peter doesn't leave Vegas.

He's not trying to find the dragon any more, he just doesn't have any reason to leave. Peter can't face Chris right now, doesn't want to think about the enormity of what the human has done, or that drunken midnight confession. It's too much.

So he distracts himself. And Vegas has plenty of distractions.

Two in particular at the moment, Jordan and Jackson, one on either arm, both extraordinarily beautiful.

His nose can catch the hint of sulfur that gives them away as demons, incubi to be specific, but Peter doesn't care, because they keep him thoroughly occupied, and the essence they drain from him is recovered quickly with the extra healing powers he has as an Alpha werewolf.

Also, they're _fun_.

They can get into any party, and they do so. Peter has no idea whose place they're at now, but it's packed and the drinks are flowing liberally, and Jackson is dancing for him while Jordan is...otherwise occupied.

Peter shifts his gaze from the man on his knees up to the one dancing, and he beckons Jackson over, pulls him into a deep kiss while his hand goes around to the back of Jordan's head and he starts fucking the incubus' mouth cruelly. Jordan doesn't seem to mind in the least as his hand slides up Jackson's thigh and rubs against his crotch.

Jackson pulls his dick out so that Jordan can wrap his hand around it, and Peter devotes himself to exploring Jackson's mouth with his tongue, barely coming up for air before he's spilling into Jordan's mouth. The incubus quickly turns his head, sticks his tongue out to show Jackson the creamy whiteness on it, and then takes the other incubus into his mouth.

Peter leans back and tucks himself away as he watches them, watches Jackson throw his head back as his hips snap a few times and then he, too fills Jordan's mouth with his come.

Jordan licks his lips after he's swallowed, looking very kitten-like as he snuggles up to Peter's left side, while Jackson leans against his left.

They swap lazy kisses and drink way too much, and then Peter looks to one side and then the other.

“I want you both to fuck me.” The two demons exchange glances and then look at him with identical grins. “At the same time.”

Because even now, under the spell of the incubi, completely sloshed, he can't stop thinking about Chris.

-

The hunter gives it a week before he starts trying to track Peter down. Which isn't easy because Chris has no leads and Stiles isn't taking his calls.

He eventually makes a list of all Peter's favorite places that he knows of, and starts searching.

Chris is in Colorado when he gets shot, two bullets from behind, and as he blacks out, Chris thinks he recognizes the woman's voice.

-

Peter is back at the club with his two playmates when Victoria walks in, and they both eye her like she's the buffet at an all you can eat restaurant.

“Careful, boys, that one is more than you can handle.”

Victoria looks at Jordan, who has gone back to nibbling at Peter's neck, and she must have done _something_ because all of a sudden, Jordan gasps and scrambles back, eyes wide with horror.

“Alright, alright, Lady, your property, we get it.” Jackson grabs Jordan, who's out of his momentary delirium and now staring at her, and the two demons hurry away.

“ _Really_?!” Peter grumbles as he reaches for the bottle of champagne, which is batted out of his grasp without the dragon moving an inch.

“Something's happened to Chris.”

Peter's eyes flare red. “What have you done?”

“It wasn't me that put a bounty on you.”

“Where is he?” Peter demands, rising quickly and reaching for her arm.

He doesn't find it, stumbles as she vanishes into thin air, but he hears her voice whispering into his ear.

“If I knew where he was, I wouldn't need you. Oh and by the way, those incubi were planning on draining you and turning you in tonight. You're welcome.”

-

Chris wakes to a bright light and blinding pain.

“Where's the wolf?”

Chris is tied to a chair, and he's fairly certain the bullets in his back are still there. “What wolf?”

Another bullet finds his shin, and he's pretty sure he feels bone splintering.

“The one you're fucking, Argent.”

And now he knows the voice. “Braeden.”

“He's worth a lot of money, Chris,” she says as she steps into the light.

“I'm not going to give him up.”

Braeden looks over her shoulder. “He telling the truth?”

A voice Chris doesn't know, a soft, cultured voice with an accent the hunter can't quite place, sounds from behind the woman. “It seems so.”

There's the sound of footsteps, dress shoes by the sharp clicks, and something else, a weird tapping that Chris can't seem to identify, and then the voice says one more thing that makes him forget about everything else.

“Kill him. Slowly.”

-

Peter's grim look fades only slightly as his phone chimes. _Seems the two incubi are worth something after all._

He clears that and dials Erica. Peter doesn't waste time with pleasantries.

“Chris is missing. I need Stiles to trace him.”

“I don't control Stiles, Hale.”

“I'll owe you a favor, Reyes.”

“Two favors.”

“You _really_ going to do this when my mate's life is on the line?”

There's a very long beat of silence, which Peter spends panicking at what he's said out loud, _at what he just made real_.

“Where are you?” It's Stiles. Peter breathes again. “Fifty miles outside Vegas.”

“Pull over, fill a round container with blood.”

Peter doesn't ask questions, just does it, side of the road in the desert bleeding into a tupperware container.

“Utah,” Stiles says after far too long a wait. “Fishlake Forest off I-70. Best I can do from here.”

Peter starts to thank him, but Stiles has already hung up.

He calls Victoria. “I'm going to need a lift.”

-

“Who's your partner?” Chris' voice is garbled through swollen lips and dripping blood.

Braeden doesn't answer, just roundhouse kicks him in the face.

Chris grunts as he hits the floor, and he's fairly certain that one of the bullets nicked his spine, because his whole left side seems to be numb.

He can still feel his right side, as evidenced by the sharp pain as she stabs a knife into his thigh, and drags it slowly down his leg, shredding muscle.

“You used to be a good hunter, what happened?”

“Deucalion happened.” The clipped voice sounds from behind Braeden, and the hunter whirls and fires the gun, and she's fast, but no one's fast enough to tangle with Victoria. Braeden snarls and swipes a knife at the woman. The dragon easily dodges, keeping the hunter's attention on her.

Chris watches with his one good eye, wondering why the dragon doesn't just kill her, and then he hears the roar of an Alpha, and Victoria vanishes.

Chris watches Peter as comes through the window. _Always gotta makes a grand entrance,_ Chris thinks as the edges of his vision turn black. _God damned drama queen is what he is._

_I'm gonna miss that._

_-_

Peter bursts through the glass, snarling at the hunter who smells of his mate's blood and pain. She's good, but Peter's better. And he has a dragon on his side.

Braeden over-extends, and Peter's got her, rakes his claws along her gut and thigh, and steps back, willing to watch her bleed out. And then he's shying back as her body bursts into flames.

“You're an Alpha now, Peter. You can turn with a scratch.” Victoria's voice sounds tired for the first time, and Peter looks around for her.

“What's the matter? The twins-”

“They're fine. I'm fine. Chris...is not.”

Peter turns to look, rushes over and flips the human onto his back, there's blood everywhere and Peter _doesn't hear a heartbeat_ , and he clutches the hunter to him.

“Don't you dare do this to me, you _bastard_. You can't.”

 _You're an Alpha now, Peter._ Victoria's words from earlier run through his mind, and before he can talk himself out of it, Peter extends his fangs and buries his teeth in the human's shoulder.

Then he pulls Chris into his lap, wraps his arms around the hunter, and waits.


	8. Wolf Magic

Chris wakes up to the worst hangover he's ever had, everything is too loud, too bright, and the smells-

“God _fucking_ dammit, Hale.”

Peter jerks awake, blinks in confusion at Chris, who shoves at him, because the werewolf is wrapped so tightly around him, he's feeling smothered. Peter loosens his hold but doesn't let go, and Chris snarls at him with a little more oomph than he's used to having.

“You _bit_ me, you asshole.”

Peter arches a brow. “You were dying.”

“And I was _fine_ with that, you son of a bitch.” Chris succeeds in shoving himself away from Peter, starts pacing.

Peter leaps to his feet. “Well I'm _not_.” He growls at the newly-made beta, who instead of being submissive in the least, rounds on his Alpha and gets right up in Peter's face, fucking _challenges_ him, and they're both on edge, suddenly there's claws and fangs, until the sound of slow clapping gets both their attention.

Peter and Chris turn their heads to see the heavily pregnant Victoria making the percussive sound. “Now, if you two will put your dicks away, we've got things to do.”

Chris glances at Peter as he tilts his head in an odd way, and then he realizes that the Alpha is _listening_ , and then he hears it too.

“Two?” Chris is staring at the dragon's stomach.

Victoria sighs and runs her hand over her face. “If we could _focus_?” She waves her hand and the illusion takes hold, the dragon looks as she did when they all first met.

Chris growls at her, and then startles back as he realizes what he's done.

“Fucking _werewolves_ ,” she mutters and it's the most exasperated Peter has ever heard her.

Victoria turns to face the Alpha. “Get your beta under control. I'll give you the weekend, but Monday we start.”

“Start what?” Chris grinds out, but Victoria vanishes, fizzles away into the air.

Peter swears low under his breath while Chris throws a chair across the room. “It seems, Christopher, that the mother of our children has plans for us.”

-

As it turns out, Chris Argent is a terrible wolf.

He's got such iron will, such a long history of disassociating and sublimating himself, that he can't just _let go_ and allow the change to come over him. He has to be forced into it by Peter picking a fight, or by using his Alpha dominance. Neither of them like either of those options. And then Chris finds out he can't get drunk anymore, his favorite coping mechanism.

It's a very long weekend.

-

Victoria shows up at the door of their motel room at 6 am Monday morning, with a file folder and coffee.

“Good morning,” she says, slapping the file down in front of a bleary-eyed Chris, while Peter just tucks the covers over his head.

“What kind of torture is this, dragon?”

“Is he always this whiny?” Victoria asks Chris who nods, and tugs the file closer to him. She sighs as she shakes her head. “Let's hope his daughter does not take after him.”

Peter sits up straight. “A girl?”

“They're both girls, a male dragon hasn't been born in centuries. Now,” she points one blood red nail at the girl in the picture that Chris is looking at. “This is an alicorn. Very rare, very hard to find.”

“How did _you_ find her then?”

“ _Not_ the issue here. You need to get a piece of her horn and a feather from her wings.”

“What's an alicorn?”

Chris tosses Peter the drawing, then turns back to the dragon. “Why do we need these things?”

She leans back. “The witch will need these things, and more, for the spell.”

“What spell?” Chris wants to know.

“All in due time, my darlings.” Her nail taps again on the file. “Here's everything you need to find her. You'll have to figure out how to force her change yourselves. I have things I must be doing.”

“What things?” But she's gone before Peter finishes asking the question.

“I really hate when she does that.” Chris sighs as he studies his coffee. “This isn't going to work on me any more is it?”

“Nope,” says Peter, popping the 'p' before he tugs the covers back over his head.

“We'll head out this afternoon,” Chris mutters, and climbs into his side of the bed, falls asleep to the sound of his Alpha's heartbeat.

-

Its a long drive, full of silence, and then Chris mutters out of the blue. “You shouldn't have done it.”

“Are we going to have this conversation every day, Christopher? What's done is done.”

“You could have been free of me, Peter.”

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull the damned car over, Christopher.”

He does and then turns to Peter, one eyebrow arched. “Listen to my heartbeat.” Chris tilts his head and does so. “I hate you.” There's a weird thump and Chris furrows a brow. “That's the sound of a lie.”

Peter reaches out, grabs Chris' chin and looks into his eyes. “I can't live without you.”

This time, the Alpha's heart remains steady.

“No lie,” Chris whispers. “I couldn't live without you either.”

Peter pulls him close slowly, gives Chris time to shift away, but he doesn't do so, he lets Peter bring their lips together.

Chris is overcome with a mixed swell of emotions, like nothing he's ever felt before, and then he surges up into Peter, almost desperately, claws piercing Peter's shirt as he pulls the younger man closer. Peter's hands reach down to unfasten Chris' jeans, to slide his hand within, and wraps around the beta's rapidly thickening cock. Chris moans into Peter's mouth and the Alpha sucks on his tongue before pulling away slowly, and moving his head down to bury it in Chris' lap.

The beta throws back his head as Peter's mouth sinks down onto him, the hot wet heat feeling _incredible_ , and he can't help bucking up into it. Peter's hand curls around his hip, holds Chris down while he starts moving back and forth.

Chris tastes _amazing_ and Peter takes his time, tracing his tongue along the thick vein beneath, curling around the head, sliding along the slit.

Chris makes a soft sound of loss when Peter finally pulls away, climbs over the seat into the flat back, shoving weapons and bags to the side to make room. He turns to watch Peter, slightly dazed, and it's not until Peter's tugging his pants down under the curve of his ass, sliding two fingers in, that Chris gets with the program and follows.

He kneels behind Peter, mesmerized by the sight of those two, now three, fingers fucking into that tight little hole, and then when the digits withdraw, and the Alpha murmurs, “I'm ready for you,” he can't wait any longer.

Chris lines up and slides himself home, running on pure animal instinct now, and he _knows_ that his claws are digging into Peter's skin, and he feels the pain in his gums as the fangs descend. There's no way he has the control right now to stop it.

Especially not when Peter's tugging his shirt off, and looking over his shoulder at Chris, eyes flashing Alpha red. Chris can't help curling himself over Peter's back, or raking his claws along his Alpha's sides, as he fucks the younger man, hard and fast, and he's barely coherent when he buries his teeth into the nape of Peter's neck as he comes, completing the circle.

As soon as Chris' teeth sink into Peter's skin, the Alpha feels the mate bond snap into place, feels the beta orgasm both physically and mentally, and follows his love right over that cliff.

Chris drifts for a while, floating on the cloud of endorphins after he pulls away and lays down on his back, tugging Peter to curl into his side.

“That was amazing,” he rumbles finally, and Peter's reply is smug.

“Of course it was.”

Chris snorts, but he can't be irritated right now, just levers himself up and reaches for the wipes, cleans both himself and his Alpha off.

Peter swats at Chris, he's perfectly happy to lay here all day, but Chris snorts.

“Up, lazy. We got a job to do.”

-

The alicorn, Heather, is exactly where Victoria had said she'd be, and they dog her steps for a couple of days, before figuring that cornering her at the park as she walks home from the library is the best way to get her to change.

Heather is _very_ not happy about two wolves attacking her, and puts up a hell of a fight for such a young creature, flying at them with horn extended, and trying to smash them with her hooves. She nearly gets her horn through Peter's side before Chris can slice through it with a machete. Peter turns and yanks a fistful of feathers just before the appendages melt away, and both get tucked into a jar.

“There now, that wasn't so bad,” Peter turns to say to the girl, and then stops as he looks at the frail human form. It looks like someone smashed her face in with a rock, and there's a bloody gap in her scalp where someone has torn her hair out by the roots.

Chris closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I should've known that would kill her.”

“Should have known the dragon wouldn't have told us.”

They take Heather's body to the cemetery, lay her down under an angel statue. Chris brushes the back of his hand across her pale cheek. “I'm sorry, little one, we didn't know.”

Peter takes the first shift driving as Chris stares moodily out the window.

He doesn't speak until they get to Stiles' new shop, and Scott challenges him at the threshold.

“The hell is wrong with you, McCall?”

“You're the beta of a different Alpha now, Christopher.” Peter steps in front of Chris, flashes red eyes at Scott. “Your Alpha's honor has been satisfied, your home defended. Now quit the crap and let us in, we need to see Stiles.”

“Stiles doesn't want to see you.” The witch in question, completely intact, leans against the counter behind Scott.

“Enough pouting, what's done is done. We're just dropping off some things the dragon said you'd need for a spell.”

“What spell?”

“That's what I said,” Chris mutters.

Peter gives him a _look_ , then offers the jar to Scott, who turns and hands it to Stiles. The witch whistles low. “How in the hell did you get your hands on this?”

“I was hoping she told _you_ what the spell was.” Peter ignores the question of how.

Stiles shakes his head, runs a finger down the outside of the jar. “Nope,” he says, setting it on the counter, then narrows his eyes as he looks up at the duo once more.

“Congratulations, by the way. Now get the hell out of my shop.”

 


	9. Interludes and Instincts

They decide to stay in town a couple days, well – a nearby town, Erica said that they couldn't stay in her territory. Peter books them a hotel room, a nice one, not the shitty motels they usually crash in, and heads straight for the shower. Chris drops their bags just inside the door and then closes and locks it, reaches into his bag to set his gun on the bedside table, like he always does, and then makes a noise that is _not_ a yelp as it singes him.

Peter turns back in the bathroom doorway, hiding his smirk as he wanders back over, pulls Chris' hand up to look at it. “Wolfsbane is going to be a real problem for you, isn't it?”

And then he kisses the red spot, and Chris freezes. For all that they've fucked, and maybe mentioned some feelings once or twice, this is new. There's a tender protectiveness in Peter's eyes, and Chris is not prepared to deal with it.

Peter seems to understand, because he changes tactics, tugs Chris to his feet. “We need to get that wound clean.”

Chris nods, it makes sense, and follows Peter's lead into the bathroom docilely, arches a brow as he extends a claw and shreds Chris' shirt in half.

“I'm not sure how that helped.”

Peter leers at him, lets his gaze caress Chris' torso. “It helped me a great deal.”

Chris rolls his eyes but when Peter's hands go to his waistband, he bats them away and slides free of his jeans himself.

“No wonder you go through so many clothes,” he grumbles as Peter pulls him close and buries his nose in the crook of Chris' neck. The new beta closes his eyes as he breathes deeply, the scent of his Alpha settling him, which makes him unsettled. Chris doesn't like these new instincts.

Once again Peter changes things up, turns and pushes Chris towards the shower, swatting him on the rear.

“Time to get clean.”

Chris snorts but climbs in the shower, turns the water on, and ducks his head beneath the spray. Peter joins him a second later and Chris starts to object but the Alpha cuts it off by falling to his knees, and licking a stripe along Chris' dick.

Chris gasps and feels the prick of his claws trying to poke through his fingers as he suddenly gets with Peter's program. He's hardening in Peter's mouth right away, and he wants to grab a fistful of Peter's hair and fuck his face as hard as he can, but Peter holds tightly onto Chris' wrists as he teases the beta.

It's not until Chris' eyes flash blue and he's starting to lose control of his shift that Peter pulls back, rises and pulls Chris into a hot, hungry kiss.

Peter turns Chris and kisses the back of his neck softly, and Chris feels a weird double-shiver run through him, but it vanishes as quickly as it came, and he's distracted from it by Peter's soap slick hands running along his skin.

The Alpha is surprisingly gentle as he washes Chris, gently sliding his hands everywhere but where Chris wants them. He hears Peter's chuckle before Chris realizes that he'd been growling.

“Is there something you want, Christopher?” Peter nips at his ear, slippery hands skating along Chris' abdomen and thighs, and the beat responds by growling and then whipping himself around, and shoving Peter up against the shower wall.

He doesn't deign to respond to the Alpha's needling, just gets his own fingers slick, and works one of them into Peter as the other hand wraps around the back of the younger man's neck, thumb caressing the ridged scar from his teeth.

Chris pushes a second finger in, and his voice is a deep rumble as he asks about it. “Why didn't that heal?”

“It's a claiming bite.” Peter doesn't want to introduce the 'mate' word yet, he's afraid Chris might bolt at the whole forever partners thing. “It won't fade until I'm no longer claimed.”

Chris scissors his fingers inside Peter and the Alpha shifts slightly with a soft low noise at the motion. His hand leaves Peter's neck, reaches around to circle loosely around Peter's cock, letting the weight of it settle in his hand as he slides a third finger into the Alpha.

“Fuck my hand, Peter,” he orders, squeezing slightly, and Peter braces his hands on the shower wall, snaps his hips forward as Chris watches him slide through his slick fingers, and then impale himself back onto the beta's fingers.

Peter looks _beautiful_ like this, head thrown back as he chases his pleasure, body undulating smoothly, muscles cording and bunching. Chris wants to see how he looks when he comes.

He shifts the angle of his fingers until he finds the right one, that has them rubbing along that tight little kernel every time Peter fucks himself back on Chris' fingers.

“Christopher,” Peter whines, warning the older man how close he is, and Chris rumbles in satisfaction.

“Come for me Peter,” he murmurs against the back of the Alpha's neck, lips pressed against that mark briefly before he shifts to the side so that he can see Peter's face.

Peter's half-open eyes flash red as he spills over Chris' hand, and over the shower wall, claws scrabbling against the tile. He makes a low, bereft sound as Chris pulls his fingers away, shuts the shower off after he rinses.

Chris tugs Peter from the shower, wraps him in a towel, then lifts him easily, laying him out on the bed. The beta curls up behind him, runs a soothing hand along Peter's flank before curling around his thigh and lifting. Peter is pliant now, not protesting at all as Chris maneuvers him, and then presses the blunt head of his cock to the still fluttering hole. There's almost no resistance as he slides in, and yet it's still so tight around him, that he has to stop and breathe a moment.

Chris wraps his hand around Peter's hip, slides the other around Peter, and presses soft kisses to the Alpha's neck as he fucks him slowly. There's no rush of their first mating, no quick coupling while on the road, and Chris takes his time, not speeding up until he's reached the edge of his restraint, claws digging into Peter once more as he snaps his hips forward and buries himself inside his mate.

Chris feels a strange tingling, and then a pressure like a vise at the base of his dick, and he growls low, lost in his instincts, until Peter makes a strangled noise, as if he's in pain.

The fog in Chris' head clears, at least somewhat, and he tries to pulls back, even though he can feel the throbbing of his release, still coming inside the Alpha. This time the gasp is definitely pained, and Peter reaches around to hold Chris still.

“Peter?” he slurs out the younger man's name through his fangs, and the Alpha shakes his head a minute, holding up a finger, indicating that Chris needs to wait a minute. So wait he does, jaw clenched because he's _still_ pulsing inside Peter, and maybe it's a werewolf thing, he thinks.

Peter takes a breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob, but his voice is steady when he addresses Chris.

“On rare occasions, when a werewolf couple feels safe...and particularly attuned to each other, this can happen.” Chris thinks there's something seriously wrong with him that Peter's pedantic professor voice is starting to appeal to him.

“What can happen, Peter?” He shifts and Peter honest to god whimpers.

“Knot, Christopher. You've knotted me.”

“I – What – ” Chris is floored and unthinkingly looks down, which tugs at him inside Peter and he makes that whimper again. So Chris slides his hand down, traces the rim of Peter's hole where it's stretched around the beta's cock, presses a finger until he can feel the hard roundness through Peter's skin.

“Well, that's new.”

Peter snorts. “You can stop it from happening just like you control the shift.”

“How long will it last?”

“About another twenty minutes, though it should start going down before then.”

Chris muses on this a moment, and then shrugs and wraps his free arm around Peter, thumb swiping along the Alpha's nipple. Peter twitches and it causes him to clench tight around Chris' knot, which makes the beta swear low and shift again, and Peter makes a soft noise in his throat.

“Peter?” Chris moves again, thumbs the nipple at the same time, and the Alpha whines through tightly pressed together lips. “Is that?” He doesn't finish his question as his hand slides down and encounters the answer. The Alpha is hard again.

“The knot feels good doesn't it?” Chris breathes against Peter's ear, and is answered with a wordless moan as he rolls his hips.

Chris thinks a minute, and then carefully lifts Peter, moves them both until the Alpha is sitting in his lap, and then he moves both hands around, one plucking roughly at a nipple while the other starts stripping Peter's dick, and Chris makes tiny little thrusting motions with his hips.

Chris brings Peter off two more times before the knot subsides and he slides out with a hot rush of fluids. The Alpha passes out as soon as he's free, mumbling something incoherent as Peter buries his face in the pillow.

Chris feels antsy rather than exhausted, and prowls toward the bathroom to get a couple of cloths, cleans himself and Peter up before pacing the room a few times.

Eventually, he decides that Peter will be hungry when he wakes up, so he pulls on some clothing and leaves Peter there sleeping. Chris finds that he starts getting anxious at leaving the Alpha behind the second he's out of the hotel, so he just picks the closest coney island and places his order.

Peter opens one eye lazily as Chris comes back with more food that either of them could eat in a week. He sets the bags down on the table and starts pulling things out, gets the forks out of their little plastic wrap, puts the straw in the drink, sets it all up on a tray, and then brings it to Peter, who's already pushed himself up into a sitting position, grimacing slightly as he does so.

But he's smirking once he looks over the ridiculous amount of food that Chris has provided for him.

“All my favorites,” Peter murmurs, “thank you, Christopher.”

Chris feels this rush of pride, he's claimed and provided for his mate, and he is suffused in it for all of ten seconds, and then he shakes his head, brow furrowed. “Wait.”

Peter lifts his drink is a mock salute. “Instinct is a powerful thing.”

Chris narrows his eyes, already flashing blue as he starts to get annoyed, and he points imperiously at Peter. “You're enjoying this far too much.”

The Alpha grins, not even trying to deny it, but Chris is distracted from his impending tirade by the ring of his phone.

“Victoria,” he says, voice flat.

“Miss you too, puppy,” she croons, and Chris grits his teeth. “Next two things you need, a piece of gold from a leprechaun's collection, and a branch from a dryad's tree. I've texted you an address. Ciao.”

Chris glares at the phone as it flashes _Call Ended_. “That dragon is starting to get on my nerves.”

Peter's eyes flick up from his feast. “Next assignment?”

The beta nods, and then taps the phone against his lips thinking. Chris makes a decision and then makes a phone call.

“Danny, can you find out who posted the hit on Isaac Lahey for me?”

 


	10. Gold and Forest

“I haven't seen a Starbucks for miles. I haven't even seen a _house_ for miles.” Peter is unimpressed with Minnesota.

“Shouldn't you enjoy the trees, wild places, wild animal?”

Peter sniffs. “I am hardly a wild animal, Christopher.”

Chris smirks, thinking of his Alpha writhing beneath him, whimpering and begging. “You're right, you're very tame.”

Eyes flash red at him and Peter growls low, reaches over and slides a hand up the jean-clad thigh. “I'll show you tame, Argent.”

“Some other time.” Chris fakes disinterest, but Peter can small the tang of arousal in the close quarters of the vehicle and the Alpha smirks and drags a claw along the older man's zipper.

“You two are going to get yourself killed, acting like teenagers.”

Peter jumps and twists, snarls at the seat behind him as Chris swerves and then brings the car back into its own lane without incident.

“Dammit, Dragon, _you're_ going to get us killed.”

Victoria arches a brow and leans back in the backseat, closes her eyes. Peter watches her for twenty minutes solid but she doesn't move or wake up.

It's another hour until they get to the lodge, and Peter spends it fiddling with the radio or directing suspicious looks at the woman in the backseat.

When Chris pulls the SUV into the parking area, Victoria flicks her eyes open and slides from the car, movements light and economical, as if the pregnancy isn't bothering her at all.

“It's an illusion,” Peter opines, leaning into Chris as they look after where she's disappeared into the office. “I can smell her worry and pain.”

Chris arches a brow at his mate. “You can do that?”

“It's a Hale talent, takes a long time to master, and if you're untrained.. it can master you.” Peter's blue eyes are sad a moment. “That's what happened to Derek.”

Chris frowns and shakes his head. “Your nephew? The one in that asylum?”

“Eichen House.” Peter nods. “He was sniffing out emotion unconsciously for far longer than we realized.” He lifted their bags from the trunk, along with a suitcase that hadn't been there before. “It made him a sort of...reactive empath.”

Chris reaches for his own bag and Victoria's case. “So he felt what everyone else was feeling?”

Peter nods and slams the trunk shut. “Completely and utterly. And you know how volatile teenager's emotions can be. Talia suspected that it was a failed romantic relationship that was the final break.” He leads the way towards the office. “Of course, she didn't realize until it was too late.”

Chris shakes his head, mulling that one over and following his Alpha, until peter almost runs right into Victoria as she emerges from the office, holding two keys. She hands one to Peter and then turns on her heel.

The wolves share a look, and then Chris shrugs and follows her.

It's a double-set of rooms, with a door in between. King sized beds in each. Victoria leaves her door open, and then stretches out on the bed as Chris pulls her suitcase over to her side. He watches her for a moment, then lets his gaze trail down to her rounded stomach, feels an odd yearning for the little ones inside.

“That's your pack instincts talking,” Peter breathes against his ear after he silently wraps his arms around Chris, following his gaze to see the woman carrying their pups.

Peter tilts his head, listens to their heartbeats, and after a moment, Chris follows suit.

They stay like that until Chris' phone buzzes in the next room, and he wanders off to check it. Peter stays until Chris hisses at him.

The Alpha arches a brow at the older man until Chris shows Peter the email he's gotten back from Danny.

_Dracus Victorious, LLC._

They both turn and look at the wall separating them from the woman in the other room. Chris grabs a pad of paper and a pencil.

_She set us up._

Peter reaches for a pen and writes in elegant cursive beneath Chris' chicken scratch.

_How could she know we would take it? We had plenty of options, and we're not the only ones who hunt._

Chris gnaws on his pencil a moment, then brings it to the notepad.

_I think she's been spying on us since that night. Something different, something far away._

Peter nods.

_Makes sense._

Chris' eyes are worried as he looks up at his mate.

_Now what?_

Peter writes.

_We play along until we know why._

_-_

An insistent knocking at their room door pulls Peter and Chris out of a sound sleep, and Peter lazily tugs on a pair of pajama pants as he goes to find out who it is.

“Stiles,” he says with no small amount of surprise. “And Scott.” His voice goes flat for the latter, which makes Scott grin, and he steps forward, chin raised.

Chris doesn't realize he's growling until all three turn to look at him, the younger duo in surprise, Peter with a smug smirk.

“Chris is my beta now,” Peter says casually, “and the dragon is next door.” He waves them on in. “Care for a drink?”

Stiles frowns and closes the door silently, digs in his satchel and pulls out a pink powder that somehow seems to make Chris' ears hurt. He covers them and looks away, catches Scott's sympathetic look, and none of the wolves look at Stiles as he makes a large circle on the floor and beckons them all into it.

“This should keep what I have to say private. Not that it's much use. Alicorn horn and feathers are used in a crapton of protection spells.” Stiles gestures and bops Peter in the nose. The Alpha blinks and then his eyes slowly narrow at the witch. Chris rests a hand on his forearm warningly, then looks back at Stiles.

“What about leprechaun gold and dryad branches?”

The witch considers a moment and then shakes his head. “Those are fairly common in protection spells as well. I suspect she's starting us out easy.”

“Us?” Peter is still glaring.

“She called me here.” Stiles looks unhappy. “That damned scale powder.”

“So, that's why she can always find us.”

“Are you boys talking about me?” Victoria waves her hand and a breeze sweeps through the room, disturbing the rings of powder. Stiles glares at her, and then flops onto the bed, while Scott inserts himself between the witch and the dragon.

“You are the most adorable puppy,” she says, and pinches his cheek. Scott yelps and backpedals, falling on top of Stiles, who swears and rolls him to the side.

Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Excellent, now that you're all here. The betas should have no trouble with the dryad, but Peter, darling, you're going to need Stiles' help with the leprechaun.”

-

Scott shows Chris a lot about his sense of smell, things that Peter wasn't able to explain, being a born wolf. They take their time, meandering through the forest until they reach the coordinates that Victoria had said the dryad's tree would be at. They've ended up smack dab in the middle of a thick grove of trees.

“Did your dragon happen to mention how we know which one is the dryad's tree?” Scott hisses under his breath to Chris.

“I think we should ask her.”

Scott turns and sees a woman who looks more like a doctor than a mythical creature leaning against a strong old oak tree.

“Are you Marin Morell?” Scott asks, offering her that sunshine smile of his.

“Are you Scott McCall?” she returns, gaze calm but both betas can smell the anxiety behind the mask.

“How do you know my name?” Scott demands.

“Not important, Scott,” Chris counters, “we need a branch from your tree, Ms. Morell.”

“Alan Deaton and I share a parent,” she says, never looking away from Scott, “and I'm going to need something from you in return.”

-

“Bobby Finstock?” Stiles asks with a polite smile as the door is opened.

“Well, well,” the man says as he throws open his door, “up for a little game of fetch?”

Peter only has time to blink before he's forced into his wolf form, and he's _really_ fucking sick of people doing that to him.

Finstock takes off, and Stiles pats the wolf's rump. “There you go boy, catch 'im.”

Peter snarls at Stiles, but charges after the surprisingly man-sized leprechaun.

Once the duo is out of sight, Stiles drops the inverted glamour hiding his powers, and walks into the leprechaun's house. This was not exactly the plan, but he thinks he can make it work. Stiles pulls a pinch of golf leaf from his pocket, whispers as he crumbles it into the air. It shimmers as it falls, then halts mid air, and starts to drift to the side. Stiles simply follows.

-

“Stiles is not going to be happy about that.” Scott zips up his jeans, chest still heaving from exertion.

Chris shrugs. “Better you than me.” He takes the branch from Scott and wraps it in a cloth.

-

Stiles has been waiting on Finstock's porch for almost an hour when Peter comes back, covered in blood.

“What happened?” Stiles jumps to his feet.

Peter stretches himself back into human, shrugs nonchalantly. “I caught him.”

Stiles' gaze travels over the werewolf's body, and Peter arches a brow. “Scott just fucked the dryad.” He tilts his head, and Peter starts to react to the attention, but ends up shaking his head.

“Mated, bonded, etc. You know.”

Stiles shrugs, “Fair enough. Why don't you go grab a shower? As long as the guy's dead, I might as well take some time and see what else is of value 'round here.”

-

By the time Peter gets out of the shower, and finds a pair of sweatpants to fit, Stiles has an entire suitcase full, and he's working on a second.

“What is all this junk?”

“I'm taking everything with traces of magic in or on it, it'll take me a while to sort what's what.”

Peter tenses as he hears a car, and then relaxes as the familiar sound of the SUV.

“Looks like our boys are home.”

Scott's got a pizza and a cake and a six pack of beer.

“Is that all it takes to buy forgiveness?” Peter smirks as Scott freezes, guilt painted all over his face.

“Relax, Scotty, I had a feeling she might demand that. It's fairly typical. Still,” he says, taking a big bite of pineapple pizza, “you could have let Chris do it.”

Peter snarls and his eyes flash red before he realizes that Stiles is ribbing him, and then he steals the slice of pizza in retaliation and stuffs it in his mouth.

“Hey, that's for _Stiles_ ,” Scott objects.

“So was your dick, but you didn't have _any_ trouble sharing that.” Peter ducks a flying statue and winks at Stiles before Chris grabs a beer and settles down in Finstock's easy chair.

“How long you think we got here before his leprechaun buddies come looking for him?”

Scott looks up from adding the tree branch to the pile of magical objects they've retrieved for the dragon. “Marin said he was the last of his line, probably a while.”

“Had time for pillow talk, did ya?” Peter snickers as Stiles whispers something, and then the Alpha's eyes flash red as nothing comes out of his mouth. He leaps up and advances on Stiles, the the witch immobilizes him easily.

“If you're done needling Scott about his side piece, we do have a job to do.” Peter glowers but nods and Stiles retracts the silence spell, ponders the spell components pensively. “If only I could figure out what she wants them for.”

 


	11. Snake Revenge

“Wendigo teeth, venom from a Naag Kanyas – a Snake Woman, and a piece of a Zlatorog antler – whatever that is.” Peter paces as he reads off the list of ingredients from the email and shakes his head. “She doesn't say where to get them this time.”

Stiles cards his hand through Scott's hair as the beta lies curled up against him. “The first few were for protection, these components though, there are not defensive, they're _offensive_. They're weapons.”

“What kind of spell is _both_?” Peter wonders.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing I've ever heard of.” He muses a moment. “Something _incredibly_ powerful.”

“Well, that's sufficiently terrifying.”

Chris' phone rings. “Danny.”

“That company.” He doesn't need to elaborate which one. “I've been keeping an eye on them. They've just liquidated everything. It no longer exists.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Stiles mutters, then holds out his hand. “I need to talk to Danny.”

Once he's got the phone in his hands, Stiles abruptly wards himself with silence and storms to the room next door, slamming the door behind him. Scott watches after him, and the two other wolves can practically feel his distress, and before he knows it, Chris slings an arm across the other beta's shoulders. “It'll be alright, pup,” he says softly, but he's not expecting Scott to burrow his face into Chris' neck and cuddle up to him. He looks at Peter with confusion.

“It's a wolf thing, they need pack. You're the closest thing he's got right now. He's feeling vulnerable and alone-” Peter sniffs the air. “Also guilty because of the whole dryad thing.”

“He,” Scott's voice is muffles by Chris' shirt, “ is perfectly capable of talking for himself.”

By the time Stiles gets back, all three wolves are curled up together on the one bed, fast asleep. The witch rolls his eyes and tucks himself into the other bed, stretches out and tries to convince himself how lucky he is that he doesn’t have Scott starfishing across him with his unnatural body heat and the way he drools.

Stiles stubbornly lays there for an hour before he gives up and crawls in with the puppy pile.

-

“Alright, I'm reasonably certain that this woman fits all the indicators for this were-snake thing I can't remember the name of.” Stiles taps his finger on a blurry security camera photo that Danny has emailed them.

Scott peers over his shoulder. “Where's she at?”

Stiles checks the coordinates on the bottom of the photo and punches them into his phone. “Sacramento.”

“That will work out,” Peter comes in from the other room. “We've got a wendigo in San Francisco.”

“Road trip!” Scott grins and jumps up, and Chris shakes his head but can't help a soft chuckle.

“He's an actual puppy,” Stiles stage whispers, which prompts Scott to tackle him to the bed and tickle and so Peter drags Chris next door, and it ends up being another few hours before everyone is put back together and they can head out.

They drop Stiles and Scott off in the city at a hotel near their quarry, and make their own way to Sacramento.

When they get to their hotel to check in, they find that there's already a room rented for them, a large suite with a california king. Peter shrugs and heads on it, Chris is more suspicious. It's not until they see Victoria resting on the bed that they both relax, up until she turns to look at them, and she looks weak and pale.

“What's wrong?” Peter demands, and her smile is wan.

“I'm pregnant with twins, remember? And we're getting close to the end now.” She pats the bed on either side of her. “Come say hello to your daughters.”

Peter is the first to react, to climb into the bed with her, to let Victoria pull his hand to her stomach. She rests it in a very specific place. “Malia, this is your daddy.” The little dragon inside Victoria gives a mighty kick, and Peter startles back, before returning the hand to its spot.

Chris takes longer, is more uncertain, but eventually walks over, gives the dragon his hand though he does not climb onto the bed. His hand is placed low, just under the curve of Victoria's stomach, and there's the tiniest flutter of movement. “Allison, meet your Papa.”

Peter looks up, meets Chris' eyes over Victoria, and gives his Alpha a small smile.

“Your daughters, gentlemen.”

-

“What do you mean we need to kill him?” Scott is aghast.

“Scotty, how did you think we were going to get his teeth, send the Tooth Fairy after him?”

“Can we just...” Scott gestures wildly, “...tie him down and pull a tooth out?”

Stiles shakes his head. “He can keep them hidden, just like your fangs, and there's no way to force a wendigo to shift like there is with you wolves.”

Scott crosses his arms. “Why are we helping her again?”

“She saved my life.”

-

“Oh, yeah, name's Danielle, real nice girl. Lives with her boyfriend I those apartments there.”

Peter smiles charmingly at the woman and thanks her, then nods towards the building in question as he joins Chris outside.

“That's the building. We just need to find out which apartment is hers.”

Chris gaze scans the series of buildings. “She's a snake right? They prefer dark caves. I say lets check out the basements.”

Peter considers a moment and then nods towards two repair men walking down the street. “I think I've got an idea.”

-

“Stiles.”

“Danny, I know what she's up to. It's a –“ Stiles cuts off as his phone is flung across the room, and he looks over to see the tip of a knife pointed right at Scott's jugular, and the dragon's hand curled into the beta's hair, pulling his head back.

“I suggest you don't finish that sentence, Witch,” Victoria growls at him, and her true voice bleeds through, sending shiver down Stiles' back at her lack of control. “Keep gathering up my spell components, boy, if you want to see your puppy again.”

Stile is flung across the room after his phone and smacks his head hard. When he can see again, he dragon and the wolf are gone. He digs through to find his phone but it's fried, literally, still smoking from the flash fire that melted it to slag.

Stiles rests his head in his hands.

-

It takes them two hours of going through basement after basement before Peter catches a sent, something that he's never smelled before. It's worth investigating, and so they follow it to the door of an apartment, and Peter knocks on it.

The young man that opens it smiles waveringly and looks over their uniforms. “Can I help you?”

“There's been reports of a gas leak,” Peter lies smoothly, “and we're checking everyone's gas lines.”

The guy nods and steps back, “Yeah, okay,” and points them down the hallway. “It's all in the back.”

Chris thanks him and follows Peter into the apartment. He can't smell the snake, but he trusts Peter's nose.

The back room is empty, except for a woman sitting all alone in the center, cross-legged. “Have you come to kill me?” she says, chocolate brown eyes looking at the two wolves.

Chris kneels down in front of her. “Actually, we just need some of your venom, miss.”

“Danielle,” she says, reaching her hand out, and Chris gives her the specimen jar after glancing at Chris. She tilts her head, and her features bleed into those of a snake's. It's oddly beautiful, Peter thinks as she hooks the jar under a fang and lets the poison drip into it.

Chris smiles and thanks her as he rises after securing the lid.

“I have one more thing for you, dog,” she says, moving faster than Peter's eyes can follow and burying her fangs into the beta. Peter roars and tears her off but the damage is done. Danielle's eyes glitter at the Alpha. “ _Boyd was our friend_.”

Peter lifts his claws to her neck, but just before he tears out her throat, he's stabbed in the spine, and he loses all control of his limbs, legs collapsing.

Jared tosses his head, and the werewolf impaled on his antlers flies across the room. He looks murderous but Danielle reaches out and tugs at him. With one last look at the bastards that killed Boyd, they turn and get the hell out of there.

-

“He, I'm Officer Stilinski. I'm following up a noise complaint. How many people live here, Mr. Walcott?”

“My parents, and I have three sisters and a brother.”

Stiles scratches a symbol on his notepad and nods. “And how many of them are currently here?”

Sean shakes his head. “None of them, there's a festival in town.”

Stiles draws another hieroglyphic on the paper. “Have you had any friends over in the last few hours?”  
The wendigo shakes his head. “No, I've been alone all day, no one was supposed to come over.”

Stiles makes another mark and then offers up a smile. “Thank you, that's everything I need. Just one more thing.” He flips the paper around. “Do you recognize this symbol?”

Sean studies it, and then his eyes widen as he realizes that he can't move.

“I apologize for this, kid, but I really hate wendigos.”

Stiles pulls a syringe from his pocket, and injects an air bubble into the teen's arm. He waits, checking his watch, until the last throes of the heart attack, and then he lets the immobility spell drop. Immediately, Sean's body shifts, but Stiles is ready. He picks up the billy club and brings it down on Sean's jaw over and over, until he breaks the bone. Then he grabs his filleting knife, and carves the skin away.

Stiles tucks his grisly token into a plastic evidence bag, then heads out the door. Once he's a safe distance away, he closes his eyes and lights the corpse on fire. He watches the house burn to the ground before he turns away and head back to his hotel.

-

Peter groans and moves his arm, slowly and agonizingly, reaches around to pull the antler tine free from his back. He looks at it, blinks as the piece of bone shimmers golden in his hand. “I think we found the Zlat – _Christopher_!” he shoves to his feet, lumbers over to his prone beta, desperately checking for a pulse.

There's one, but it's weak and thready, and Peter searches Chris' body until he finds the puncture marks on the older man's thigh. It's not healing. In fact, the skin around the area has turned black...and black tendrils of poison are spreading along Chris' skin.

Chris mumbles something in his delirium, something Peter can barely hear, but it's obvious that Chris is hurting. Peter settles a hand over the wound, sucking out some of the pain as he dials their partner witch. Peter keeps taking Chris' pain as he calls Stiles over and over, until he throws the phone across the room. The Alpha's eyes flare bright red as he expends every ounce of extra will he has, to suck the poison out of his mate's system.

 


	12. Blood, Dirt, and Tears

Stiles spends a fitful night, mind replaying what he's done to that poor kid, missing the solid warmth of Scott at his back. He gives up after a few hours and calls Chris and Peter. Stiles is more than a little worried when there's no answer, and he gives it a good hour before he starts packing his things.

Stiles is just about to hail a cab when his phone rings, with Chris' number popping up on the Caller ID, and he sags against the building in relief.

“Argent?” he answers the phone, and Stiles can immediately tell that something's gone very wrong. There's a long silence, then a rasped voice answers in the affirmative.

“Stiles, you need to get here. Fast.” Then the call cuts out.

“Son of a–” Stiles decides against a cab, instead he spies an older model box van, and clambers into it, using his spark to start the engine. His case gets thrown in the back, and after some though, he rushes back into his motel room, and takes all the linens. Stiles has a bad feeling he's going to need them.

It takes him an hour to get to the address texted to him shortly after Chris hung up, and he frets the whole way. He's not prepared for the sheer destruction of the place, or the two prone bodies, Peter lying across Chris.

The former hunter is not strong enough to move the Alpha, so he's been laying there the whole time. Stiles rolls Peter off, wincing as the body flops bonelessly.

“Is he–” Chris can't bring himself to ask it.

Stiles shakes his head, eyes glowing faintly white. “I can still see his aura. But Chris – ” Stiles hesitates. “He's not an Alpha anymore.”

-

Victoria and Scott get about fifty miles away before she's faltering, her entire form convulsing in the air, and she's forced to settle to the ground, to fade into her human form once more, as ungainly as it is, and settles the unconscious beta to the ground.

Another contraction ripples along her grossly distended stomach and she collapses with a cry. Her sleeping spell snaps as she's forced to keep her concentration on soothing little Malia inside her.

Scott's eyes open, glowing at her as he snarls, and then it fades away in confusion as she just stays on the ground.

The dark eyes soften and he kneels at her side.

“What's the matter? Is it the babies?”

Victoria nods, her usually perfect red locks in disarray. She tries to speak but the pain is too much.

“It's okay,” Scott says, digging out his phone. “My mom is a nurse.”

-

Twenty minutes later Melissa pulls up, and looks over the prone woman.

“You haven't been taking care of yourself in the least, have you?” The dark curls bounce in their ponytail as she shakes her head, and then helps Scott get Victoria into the backseat of her car.

“Scott, I need to you to call your Alpha.”

The beta lofts both brows.

“We're going to need a lot of space in a very secluded area. Right now.”

-

“Where are you from Victoria?”

“L.A.”

Melissa snorts as she and the rest of Erica's Pack surround Victoria in the middle of the Hale Preserve, the Hale Pack a second ring around them.

“ _Originally_ , Dragon.”

Victoria's lips curve slightly. “Augusta Treverorum. Luxemburg, today.”

Melissa purses her lips and tilts her head as if listening. “Sirona, then.”

“Are you a witch?” Victoria gasps out as her abdomen writhes again.

“Not quite.” Melissa winks. “I'm a priestess of Cihuacóatl.”

-

“Stiles wasn't answering his phone, so I called Danny.”

Melissa nods. “He'll do.” She holds her hands out for the phone, presses a cloth into Scott's hands, and walks a few paces away, discussing thing that Danny will need.

The beta dabs at Victoria's forehead awkwardly, and then looks up to see Erica and Talia face to face, and the rumbling of discontent among the other betas.

“Yes, yes, you're big bad alphas,” comes a familiar voice from the trees, and both Alphas look his way snarling. “Everyone knows their place.”

Scott's never been so glad to see his mate's former lover in his life.

“I told you never to come back to these lands.” Talia growls, but Erica snarls at her.

“He's _my pack_ and so are his pups. And you've given us free rein until they're born.”

“He _can't_ be your pack,” Talia hisses, “He's an Alpha.”

Peter's arrogant swagger comes to a stop at Erica's right shoulder, and he flashes glowing blue eyes.

“Wrong again, big sister,” he mocks, “Like so many other things.”

“How – ” Talia starts, but this time gets interrupted by the deep, strong voice of the hunter.

“He gave it up to save me.” Chris flashes his own glowing eyes and stands at Erica's left.

Talia makes a noise of disgust. “When this is over, don't come back. I'll kill the both of you with my own hands.”

“You wolves are such drama queens.”

“Stiles!” Scott shouts and then rushes to his mate, picks the witch up and swings him around.

“Careful with the merchandise, Scotty, yes, yes I'm fine.” he disengages himself and strides over to kneel at the sleeping Victoria's side. “But we've got to do something about this dragon.”

He looks up at the sound of Melissa's voice and hops over, snatches the phone from her grip.

“Danny, heya baby, listen, we're gonna need some elemental magic. You know any – ” Stiles is cut off for a second, paces and waves his free hand around as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, be pissed later. Elements, elements. We've got to force the change.”

Stiles listens, then nods. “There's a Ngen on the preserve, and her blood will serve as the fire component...”

Melissa stands there with her hand one her hips until Stiles mouth 'sorry' at her, and then the gives Scott a stern look before returning to her charge. He smiles sheepishly and shrugs at the antics of his mate.

Stiles snaps his fingers. “Banshee! Wailing woman. Will her tears work?”

-

“Ladies, gentlemen, and supernatural creatures,” Stile is perched on a stump in a beam of moonlight and Scott covers his face in his hands. Only Stiles, he thinks half-fondly, half in exasperation as the witch continues. “We need to make a large circle around the dragon. In a minute, I'm going to project an image of her form. You'll need to back up until you're outside of it.”

They don't look happy, but they do as Stiles requests, and Scott's not sure _how_ Melissa got everyone to agree to everything, but he's grateful on behalf of Victoria. For all that she's kind of been running their lives lately, he wants her to be alright.

Stiles starts the spell, and a swirl of red glowing lines emanate from Victoria where she lay in the arms of the mated beta pair that fathered her children. They rise and coalesce into the image of a dragon, not really the way Scott recall seeing them in storybooks, but a close enough approximation. And then it starts to spread. The wolves start backpedaling, doing their best to keep in a generally circle-ish shape, and by the time it stops growing and the red image just sits there pulsing in place, they're a long ways away from where they began.

Stiles spends some time pacing the boundary after he lets the spell go, putting markers down to secure the circle, and other magicky stuff. Danny and Melissa assist him, and at some point they start speaking in other languages, so Scott goes and sits by his packmates as they hold the human shaped dragon.

There's little comfort to offer, so he just keeps them silent company until Stiles comes back, crouches in front of them while Melissa and Danny flank him.

“So here's the deal, fellas,” Stiles says in an overly cheerful demeanor that tells Scott immediately that bad news is forthcoming. “The dragon's going to die.”

Peter narrows his eyes, waiting for an explanation, but Chris growls low in his throat and would have lunged for the witch except for Scott's hold on him.

“There's nothing I can do for her. She's old, far older than I realized. Too old to be pregnant, poor girl. And I think she knew it. She's tied up a good chunk of her life essence in a spell, I expect, that will teach the little dragonets what they need to know, growing up in a world without their kind.” Stiles looks at the two. “I'm ninety-six point three two percent certain that Victoria here is the last of her kind.” He looks down at her. “Which is why I expect she has hung on to this pregnancy so hard.”

“Once she's in her natural form, she should do a bit better, it's a more resilient body, at least until I can get back.”

“Back?” Peter asks, with one brow arched.

“I've got to find her den, and finish her spell,” Stiles says, standing, “or her little dragonets won't have the last thing she tried to do for them.”

A woman appears in their midst, causing a stir among the already jumpy werewolves, dumps a handful of dirt on Stiles' head, and then vanishes again.

He starts calmly brushing it into a small envelope.

“Friend of yours?” Peter asks, and Stiles flashes him a grin.

“You could say that. Little more than friends.” He directs a sheepish look to Scott, who's just got his face buried in his hands, shaking his head.

“No wonder you two were together,” Chris mutters under his breath as Stiles finishes up the dirt, then goes to make Lydia cry.

Danny crouches next to Victoria and pulls out a tiny knife from his pocket, pricks the end of one of Victoria's fingers after massaging it, and lets a few drops slide into a vial. He then caps it and heads off to stand in his cardinal position in the circle.

Lydia takes the spot for water, holding the cup that she's dripped tears into, Erica hovering by her side and directing glares at Stiles. He's taken the final position with his envelope of dirt, leaving Melissa with the bone flute she was granted by her predecessor.

It's she who starts the spell, calling on her own patron in her native tongue, and the goddess from Victoria's homeland to help her with this ailing mother. Danny takes it up next, speaking also in the language of his birth. Lydia in the ancient Gaelic of her family, and Stiles chooses Archaic Latin.

The wolves clap their hands over their ears as the sounds of the spell rises, but they hold their place, let their energy be drawn upon, and when the chant finally dies down, there in front of them lies an enormous metallic red dragon.

 

 


	13. Death and Fire

There's an awed silence that rings the clearing, then one by one, the wolves begin to collapse. Stiles sets his jaw and quickly closes the spell, lets the excess energy bleed into the earth, and then releases the participants. Most go down hard. Unsurprisingly, Danny and Melissa are fine, just as he is, being grounded firmly in the earth. Lydia collapses like the rest, and her two little girls cry out at seeing both their mothers fall to the ground.

Scott scoops them up and convinces them that everyone's taking a nap. “But I'll bet you don't like naps, do you?”

Two strawberry blonde heads shake, one with bouncing curls, and then Scott leans forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “So we're going to do something special while everyone sleeps. Have you ever had S'mores?”

Wide eyed, they shakes their heads no, and Scott grins. “Well, then, it's time Uncle Scott showed you how.”

Stiles watches Scott carry the both of them to Lydia's car and tuck them in, telling them all about camping and woodscraft and he drives off, taking them to the store to get supplies.

“Well, he'd be a good father,” Danny opines, watching them pull away.

“Unlike some of us,” Stiles returns, eyes glittering oddly as he jests, and then turns away, back to his own jeep. “C'mon, Danny, we've got to find her hidey-hole.”

Danny takes one last look at the dragon and then follows Stiles, climbs into the passenger seat of the Jeep, and chuckles softly. “Just like old times.”

“Without the constant belittling and one-upping each other.”

“C'mon, Stiles, you have to admit, it was never boring.”

Stiles shrugs and then punches the radio on.

-

“Which of you is the father?”

Chris and Peter look up at the beautiful woman who crouches in front of them, brushing dark curls from her face. Then they look at each other, and Peter shrugs. “We both are.”

Melissa frowns and then reaches out and lays a hand on both their foreheads. “No wonder the babies took more out of her than she thought they would. One would have been difficult, but the second, half-wolf and half-dragon...” Melissa shakes her head. “She's pulling on the magic so strongly.”

Chris furrows a brow and shakes his head. “I don't understand.”

“One of the babies, the one that came from you, Christopher Argent, is half-human. She will have access to both forms. But his child,” Melissa pokes a fingernail into Peter's chest, “will be dragon and wolf. She has three sides, and she will be very powerful.” The priestess rises and looks down hard at Peter. “She will be very difficult, and frequently at war with herself.” She looks at Chris. “And your father will come for her.”

The two betas watch Melissa walk away, and then Peter runs a hand over his face. “You realize that within the next day or so, we're going to be the father to two baby girls, and we don't even have a car seat.”

Chris snorts and eyes the dragon. “We don't even have a house.”

Peter looks at him. “What are we going to do?”

Chris slides an arm around his shoulders and pulls Peter close. “We will figure something out.”

They watch in silence as Talia's pack drifts away, all but one, a solid, muscular beta with dark hair and hazel eyes. Talia wraps her arm around his bicep and there's a hissed discussion, too low for the other betas to hear, and then Talia hugs him and follows the rest of her pack.

The beta comes toward Chris and Peter, settles down in front of them. Peter blinks twice. “ _Derek_?!”

“Peter,” he acknowledges with a nod and then looks to Chris.

“It was Kate,” he says leaning in slightly to express the import of his words.

Chris glances at Peter and then back to Derek. “What was...?”

“She was the one who sent me to Eichen House.”

Chris closes his eyes and works his jaw a moment, then looks back at Derek. “I'm so sorry that happened to you, son. She's dead and can't hurt you any more.”

Derek's presses his lips together and shakes his head. “She had her throat torn out by the claws of an Alpha.” He finally looks back to Peter. “And she survived.”

Peter pales as Derek rises and then gasps when his nephew melts into a full wolf and bounds away after his pack. He turns back to find Chris staring at him.

“Peter, what does that _mean_?”

“Kate's alive, and she's turned.” Peter looks at the giant dragon in their midst. “And I'll bet you anything she's coming after us.”

-

“Oh, that's definitely it.” Stiles grits his teeth against the force of the repulsion spell. “Dammit, Victoria, if you're in there, let us pass.”

Danny's got his eyes closed tight and his hand covering his forehead, jaw working as he fights through the pain and manages a step forward.

Just as the spell opens a window for them, and he falls right through the gap, and face-first on the mountainside. Stiles snickers as he steps through and it closes behind him.

“Smooth, Danny.”

The other witch pushes himself to his feet and swipes ineffectively at the mud on his front. “I'm going to curse your underwear again.”

Stiles side-eyes him, but before it can devolve into a fight, Victoria appears in the entrance to the cave.

“Could you be any more cliché?” Stiles rolls his eyes at the cave and climbs up, Danny following.

Victoria just imperiously points at a massive leather-bound book, and it's not until he's holding it that Stiles notices the red sheen to it. He bites back nausea as his traitorous mind conjurs up the images of her cutting her own skin off for this spell.

Danny just whistles low as Stiles opens the tome to reveal blank pages. Victoria steps forward and lays her hand on the creamy white page, looks into Stiles' eyes, and then her essence is sucked into the book, words squirming and wriggling across the page, which doesn't help Stiles' uneasy stomach in the least. He's grateful to close it and lock it up.

A book behind them slides off the shelf, a slight wind ruffling through it and then dying away as a bookmarked page falls open. The two witches look at each other, and then at the book, and it's Danny who goes over and crouches, not touching it, just reading the spell. He lifts his head and looks at Stiles.

The other witch walks up, leaning over Danny's shoulder to read, and then he closes his eyes and Stiles lets his forehead fall to Danny's shoulder a brief moment.

“If you can find a kitsune,” Danny says softly, “I know where we can find an Alpha.”

Stiles nods and pulls out his phone as soon as they get past the barrier, sends a message to Chris. Danny sets his jaw as they climb in, and his directions are terse as he sends Stiles to his former lover's house.

“Daniel,” the cultured voice says softly, “What a pleasant surprise.” Red eyes flare as he takes in Stiles. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Danny looks at Stiles and then looks away, and the other witch nods. “It's okay, Dan, I got this.”

Deucalion arches a brow at the interplay and taps his claws against his thigh.

Stiles rolls up his sleeves. “Would you prefer death or dismemberment?”

Deucalion snarls and swipes his claws across Stiles' midsection, and then his eyes widen in horror as something invisible slices through his wrist, and his hand is caught by the witch.

Stiles nods. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Deucalion tries to moves but Danny is holding him fast, eyes wide and sad.

“I will never stop coming after you, Witch. I will rain down destruction on your lives for my retribution–” He cuts off with a gurgle as his heart appears in Stiles' hand.

“Death it is.” Stiles drops the heart to the floor and he and Danny take the Alpha's claws with them.

-

By the time Scott gets back with the girls, Erica's pack is up and moving around, healed physically from the drain of the magic, and prowling aimlessly. Lydia is bundled up, sipping at an energy drink, but she beams when the girls run from the car to hop in her lap.

“Uncle Scott's gonna show up S'mores!” Natalie squeals, while Meredith just nods enthusiastically. Erica hugs Scott tightly while the girls chatter away at their mother.

“Thank you, Scott.”

He grins lopsidedly at her. “Hey, I love those two, they're the best girls on the planet.”

Erica squeezes his hand. “And we have you to thank for them.”

He flashes another smile at her, and then shrugs. “Least I could do for you taking me in.”

Their talk is interrupted by the girls in question, and Scott scoops one up in each arm as Erica follows behind with all the supplies.

Scott picks a suitable place, a little ways away from the dragon, and teaches them both how to build a fire. Once it's burning merrily, he shows them how to put the marsh mallow on the sticks and to hold them lower, closer to the coals, rather than up high, and how to turn to get an even toasting.

They end up making S'mores for the entire pack, and there's a lot of sticky werewolves by the time the girls have had enough. Scott makes them tell stories and sing campfire songs, and it's weird and ridiculous with this giant dying dragon looming over them, but somehow it makes everyone feel better. Because they're not leaving. Those two babies inside Victoria are Pack, which makes the dragon Pack, and they'll honor her passing like one of their own.

Erica feels her heart swell with pride at her people and Lydia catches the glittering trail of tears and leans into her wife's side as they watch their girls.

-

Stiles' phone chimes as they're washing up in their motel room, and he nods for Danny to check it.

“Chris,” the other witch says softly, “he's got the location of a kitsune.”

“Hopefully, she'll be more cooperative,” Stiles sighs and dries his hands, settling down next to Danny on the bed and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I'm sorry, man. I know that wasn't easy.”

Danny turns his face up with a bitter little smile. “Watching my friend kill my favorite ex? Not in the least.”

Stiles reaches out and runs his thumb along Danny's cheek. “I could distract you from it?”

“What about Scott?”

Stiles arches a brow. “Road rules.”

Danny shakes his head. “I do not understand your relationship.”

“Is that a no?”

Danny reaches out and grabs a fistful of Stiles' shirt, pulls him close for a brief, harsh kiss, then turns and shoves Stiles to the bed. “Not in the least.”

 


	14. Forever and Always

Chris sets down his phone and sighs, watches the wolves at the bonfire, and turns away. He walks over to where Victoria's head is pillowed on her folded arms and he reaches out, strokes along the unresponsive face.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispers.

Peter comes up behind him, slides his arms around his waist and rests his chin on Chris' shoulder. “We'll take good care of them.” He rests his hand next to Chris' against Victoria's scales a long moment, and then he lifts his hand and twines it in his mate's. “C'mon, lets get out of here.”

Chris turns away from the dragon and nods softly. “Stiles says it'll be another day at least.”

Peter looks at him a long moment.

“Let's get married.”

Chris blinks once and then arches a brow. “ _Really_?”

“Yup,” Peter says, popping the 'p', “I'm very traditional, you know.”

Chris snorts but nods and Peter goes in search of Melissa. Chris pulls Scott aside and asks him to procure a few things. Scott grins and bounds off while Chris heads over to their Alpha to make sure they're not crossing any boundaries with her.

Lydia perks up almost immediately, and starts issuing orders while Erica grins and nods.

“You have my permission,” she says formally. “It'll be a good start to your new life, I think.” She purses her lips and studies Chris a minute. “Y'know, we do have some extra room at the house while you guys are getting on your feet.”

“And all the baby things you could want,” Lydia adds.

Erica rolls her eyes and stage whispers. “Lydia went a little overboard with the girls. There's an entire room full of boxes of baby things.”

Lydia sniffs. “It was all absolutely necessary. Now shoo, I'm wedding planning here.”

Chris thanks his Alpha for her offer and goes to tell Peter.

-

“Noshiko Yukimura?”

The woman nods and tilts her head. “What's this about?”

“I apologize for the rudeness, we're in a bit of a hurry, but we're going to need one of your tails.”

Noshiko doesn't act like she doesn't know what they're talking about, doesn't try to talk her way out of anything. She simply goes on the attack, a katana materializing out of nowhere to swipe along Stiles' arm. Danny learns the hard way that she can reflect their spells when he goes flying across the room and finds himself up close and personal with the wall.

He hears Stiles cursing fluently as he pulls a jar from his pocket and flings it at the kitsune, and then the wall falls in on Danny and he fades into darkness.

-

“Where I come from, we do this naked,” Melissa grins and lets her eyes rake over the betas.

Peter's eyes flare in interest and Chris sighs and shakes his head. “You will never learn.”

Peter glance at Victoria over his shoulder, considering the last time they'd had a threesome, and then shrugs at Chris. “It was worth it.”

Chris rolls his eyes and looks back to Melissa. “Lets get started, shall we?”

Just then, Scott runs up with a set of rings, and hands one to Peter, who looks up, wide-eyed at his mate, recognizing the ring set. Chris just winks and tugs him in front of the priestess.

Natalie and Meredith come running up, little fists full of wilting wildflowers, drooping dandelion chains settled over their brows.

Erica's – no, _their_ – pack takes seats on the ground behind them, fire crackling merrily behind Melissa as she goes through the ceremony, keeping it short and sweet.

Derek watches through the trees, a handful of dandelions clutched in his fist.

The pack takes the opportunity to celebrate, thought at a muted tone, given their odd circumstances. Peter leads his new husband to a deserted cabin in the woods and barely lets Chris get through the door before he's crowding him up against the wall.

Chris chuckles and switches their positions, presses his body against Peter's and holds the other beta's arms above his head with his left hand, while Chris' right flicks out claws and starts shredding Peter's clothing.

He squirms within Chris' hold but they're matched for strength, and all he can do is rut up against Chris' thigh and whisper filth into his husband's ear.

It works, though, Chris' eyes glowing blue as he lets go of Peter, steps back, and then pushes him toward the bedroom. And they're both aware that there' not much time for them to do this, so they can't take their time like they might have liked to.

So they just go fast and heavy, Peter ripping at Chris' clothing as he shoves two fingers in Peter's mouth, letting his husband gets them spit-slick and sloppy wet before he moves them down as Peter parts his thighs, and teases them around Peter's rim before dipping one in.

For his part, Peter licks his palm and then curls it around Chris' cock, sliding it back and forth a few times and then repeating the maneuver.

Chris' free hand slides up to roll a nipple between his fingers, smirking faintly as Peter can't help but buck up slightly. Peter narrows his eyes but just then Chris pushes both fingertips in, and he's distracted from his protest. He pulls them apart and then back together, giving Peter a cursory stretch, but that's all he gets as Chris pulls his fingers away and lines himself up. Peter wraps his ankles around Chris' thighs as the former hunter slides slowly into him, and there's the burn of stretch that makes him hiss slightly, but it soon fades away, and Chris slides himself all the way home. And for a few minutes, they just stay like that, holding one another tightly.

Chris leans in and kisses Peter softly, a marked contrast to the fierceness of a few moments prior, and then lets his forehead settle to press against his husband's.

“I love you Peter.”

“I know,” he smirks, and Chris can't help but snort a laugh, and then pulls his hips back and slams them forward, which has the benefit of both shutting Peter up and replaced that look of superiority with the heavy lidded, slack jawed look of pleasure. Chris claims Peter's lips again as he fucks into his husband, claiming his mouth as well as his body. It's their first time together as newlyweds, likely their last for a while, if the stories about parenting infants are to be believed.

Peter slides his hand down to his cock, matching Chris' pace, their lips never parting for more than a few seconds, Chris' hands roaming over Peter's skin as he makes loves to his husband. They finish together, swallowing each other's noises of pleasure, and then curling around each other tightly once they've both recovered, knowing these brief moments of peace are short-lived and fleeting.

-

It's two more hours before Danny and Stiles return, and Stiles is bandaged to the nine hells, and Danny's got a cast on his left arm, and a brace on his left ankle. They don't talk about what happened, just start setting up for the spell that will pull the dragon and her babies from their stasis. The long flat tail of the kitsune is laid across the hand of the Alpha, and Erica shoots the two witches a dark look as she recognizes it for what it is. They ignore her completely, and continue their set up, until Stiles looks up.

“Get Peter and Chris here _now_.”

Erica nods, catching the urgency, and lifts her head up to let loose a howl that echoes into the night. Her pack gathers around once more to watch as Stiles lays the book down on a cloth in front of the two grisly items, lights those two things on fire, and then looks around impatiently.

It's ten very long minutes before the two betas arrive at a run, and Stiles doesn't waste any time grabbing their hands and plunging a knife into each, dripping their blood over the spell components. The married betas exchange worried glances as Stiles and Danny start to chant, lifting their hands in unison. Melissa walks up next to them, tilts her head as if listening to the strange syllables, and then turns her head to watch the dragon. The rest of the pack follows suit, and it soon become clear that Victoria is no longer breathing.

Chris reaches out and tangles his fingers in Peter's as they watch, helpless to do anything.

Gradually, the red sheen fades to a soft gray, and then a wind kicks up and they realize that it's ash as it starts to blow away. The wolf pack hurriedly gets out of the way, watching in awe as every trace of the giant dragon vanishes, except for a handful that Stiles reaches out and grabs, sprinkles over the book, and over the burning tail and hand.

The last layer of the ash blows away, revealing two eggs the size of easy chairs and Peter and Chris exchange glances.

“Well, that's not what I was expecting.”

“Me either,” comes a voice from the edge of the forest that sets Peter's hackles on edge, and sends a chill down Chris' spine.

“Kate?”

“Hiya big brother.” Kate grins as her eyes glitter a supernatural red. “but I didn't come alone.”

“Hello, son. I see you've gone native.”

Chris growls and his claws and fangs come out as he catches sight of his father.

“I just want to hold my granddaughter.”

Peter steps forward. “That is _not_ going to happen.”

“Chris...” Stiles' voice is strained. “You've got to touch them first.”

“They'll imprint on the first one,” Danny adds, the spell taking its toll on him as well.

Gerard lifts a gun in each hand, and the wind brings them the pungent scent of wolfsbane. “I could use a pet dragon,” he says with a sneer, sidling towards the eggs that have now started rocking.

Peter steps forward, and suddenly Kate's claws are at his throat. “I wouldn't, pup.”

Chris moves and Gerard pulls the trigger, Peter twitching in Kate's hold as his husband hits the ground. Gerard continues his trek towards the eggs, keeping a wary eye on Erica, who's holding both her girls in her arms.

All of a sudden, a dark blur streaks across the clearing, and knocks into Kate. Peter doesn't stop to see what it is, just flings himself at Gerard, grunting as the bullets hit him, clawing at the ground and trying to pull himself towards the hunter. It's Erica who takes down Gerard, severing his head from his neck, and then throwing it into Scott's bonfire. She turns towards Kate, but the former Alpha is a bloody mess, and the solid black wolf that made her that way doesn't seem like he's stopping any time soon.

“Derek?” Peter's eyes are wide as the wolf looks up with Alpha red eyes.

They're all frozen like that, a tableau of frozen violence, when there's a sudden crack that echoes through the clearing. All head swivel to the eggs.

Scott tears Gerard's shotgun apart and presses the wolfsbane into Peter's wound, pulls a branch from the fire and presses it against the wound. “Hurry, Peter, go to your daughters.”

Peter looks at the eggs, and then back to Chris, but Scott shoves him towards the babies. “I'll take care of Chris.”

The beta nods once and rushes over as the top of one egg splits, and a tiny red reptilian head pushes through. Peter tentatively extends his hand, not altogether sure that he's not going to get it bitten off, but the dragonet just pushes her head into the hand before climbing through the rest of her egg, shattered pieces falling from her as she mewls and pushes herself into Peter's lap. He strokes his hand along her spine in awe. She gives a shudder, lifts her head once more and the red dragon melts into a little wolf cub, golden eyes blinking up at Peter.

“Hello, Malia,” he murmurs softly, but she gives a tiny whimpering cry. He furrows a brow. “What's wrong with her?”

“She's hungry, dumbass,” Melissa says, shoving a bottle in his hands. “It's human formula, didn't know she'd be shifted.”

Peter hands her to Melissa as the other egg cracks, and Malia changes to a human baby as soon as she's wrapped in the priestess' grasp.

“That's going to take some getting used to,” she says as she lifts the bottle to the baby's lips.

Chris stumbles over, and Peter supports his husband as they watch the second dragonet emerge, this one a striking cobalt blue. Chris falls to his knees as she makes a beeline for him, and he wraps an arm around her neck and holds her close as she melts into a human baby just like her sister.

Peter hands him one of the bottles from Melissa, and Chris welcome his little Allison into the world.

-

“We burned them both, thoroughly. There'll be no coming back from that.”

Talia nods to Erica and then looks at her brother, his mate, and their two girls one last moment, and then turns back to Erica. “Don't ever come back here.”

Erica sets her jaw, then lifts her chin, and turns her back on Talia Hale, climbs into Lydia's car as the rest of her Pack secure their own methods of transportation, and then leads her people home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I need to tag anything.
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


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